Return to Me
by Eleanor Zara Sugarbaker
Summary: Bree and Rex... Nothing is ever simple with these two.
1. Prologue

To say that Bree Van De Kamp had been through hell the past several months would be a bit of an understatement. How many other people could experience the untimely death of a husband, the suicide of a psychotic boyfriend who'd murdered said husband, finding a son, whom was later abandoned in the middle of nowhere because his mother could no longer love him unconditionally, in bed with boyfriend number two who also happened to be an alcohol and sex addict which culminated in having a teenage daughter run off with the murderous next door neighbor who was shot dead in front of her very eyes while you helplessly watched her scream and cry? Bree had thought about all these things over and over again as she vehemently and vigorously tried to scrub the blood of her now ex-neighbor's son from her floor. After finally getting her hysterical daughter to go to sleep, Bree had decided to clean the mess that was leftover from the evening's ordeal–the darkened, thick blood stain that had settled on her living room floor after it had dripped from the lifeless body of Matthew Applewhite. With her hair carelessly tied back in a knot, bright yellow plastic gloves covering her hands and a pail of cleaning supplies by her side, she began scrubbing harder than she'd ever scrubbed in her life.

Blood is a curious thing. It sustains life by carrying oxygen to the lungs, can save a life when donated to help those in need, establishes relationships between family members and its stain is one of the hardest to remove completely, if at all. Even after the application of a half-dozen or so heavy duty chemicals aimed at eradicating it from plain view, a small portion will remain behind, just below the surface, to remind those of its presence and of the event that caused its spill. Bree knew this, but yet she still continued to scrub earnestly. She sought to remove all evidence that Matthew's blood had ever been shed at all, but a part of her knew that it would always be there, forever connecting her to a time in her life that she'd rather forget.

In the dark maroon color of the blood she had seen all their faces–the death mask of Matthew as his life seeped from his once able, anger-filled body. The lines borne of the young man's belligerence that were etched in his face were still visible and still very frightening, but as this face was gradually fading from view, another took its place. George's face, as pale and pathetic as it had been as he lay dying in the bed in the hotel room, was staring at her, unmoving. His eyes were closed, his brow even, his mouth thin. There was a disturbing calm about it that made Bree work a bit more desperately to rid it from her home. But George's face melded into Andrew's and his was anything but calm. He mouthed his last words to her and she could hear his voice in her head. "I win," was all he said, with a sickeningly satisfied smirk. She'd seen that face countless times before and all the overwhelming feelings of vulnerability and guilt flooded the pit of her stomach. Sweat beads trickled from her brow to mingle with the tears that bedimmed her eyes. The emotion within her soul erupted as the broken heart that only a mother could feel cracked into two complete parts. Bree let loose a primordial cry that had escaped the mouths of an infinite number of distraught mothers since the dawn of time; since the first mothers had felt the pains and burdens of realizing they could no longer mend the invisible wounds of their prodigal children. When she could see no more through the tears that clouded her eyes, she stopped scrubbing and just sat in her living room floor and wept.

Gravity pulled her tears down her flushed face where they continued to mix with the sweat of her labor. Her breathing was erratic and her heart, which was broken beyond repair, pounded rapidly in her chest. For the first time that night, she had truly felt tired–of life, of motherhood, of widowhood, of perfection, of Wisteria Lane, of appearances, of secrets, of lies and of blood that binds us to the past, the present, the future and to each other. Bree had lost all the control she ever had. If control was money, she was now destitute, and as blood is to the survival of humans, control is to the survival of Bree. Her seemingly perfect world had endured cracks from which it could never heal. She'd somehow gone from being the envy of Wisteria Lane and Fairview County to being its biggest joke.

Bree was never good at being alone and she had been slowly succumbing to the pressure that single motherhood brings upon those who are thrust into the position with no warning or preparation. For a person who never had to learn from mistakes because she'd never made any, it was an almost impossible transition to living by trial and error. There were no guides or warning signs. That would've been Rex, but Rex was gone now. He had been her beacon in the marriage, her haven and her rock. As with a lighthouse, in times of stormy weather she could look to him and find tranquility. Now it was as though she was trying to navigate through a storm in a car with no windshield wipers. There was no calm or serenity anymore. Her husband wasn't there to soothe her or to aid her through the rough patches. She was condemned by karma to stand defenseless on a deserted beach with never ending waves beating her mercilessly for the rest of her life, with no one to hear her miserable cries.

The house seemed so big and empty now that only Danielle and herself occupied it. It was scary how she heard the hollow echos of her sobs bounce from one wall to the other, taunting her and mocking her with her own voice. She couldn't even give herself a break! It was all too much! Her fear of a nervous breakdown was becoming more tangible with each passing second. On the verge of hyperventilation, Bree reached for the scrub-brush and tried to concentrate on the damned stain. Her efforts seemed wasted, however because now the floor seemed to be bleeding; fresh, bright red blood was seeping upwards. Andrew's face laughed at her failure to remove it, causing her to scrub harder. Finally, she decided to take drastic measures. Reaching into the pail, she retrieved a utility knife and began stabbing at the blood as forcefully as she could, over and over again, chipping away at the floor. If she could just get beneath the surface, she could make it stop. It would all go away if she could make that blood go away. With her eyes shut tightly, she focused all her strength on the task at hand and pierced the floor. Pulling the knife up and out, she pierced again. In the meantime, enormous tears dripped onto her hands and knees. It had to go away. If it didn't, she couldn't go on.

"Damn, Rex!" she exclaimed through clenched teeth as she simultaneously wailed from the deepest depths of her conflicted soul. "Damn him! Damn him to hell for leaving me! I don't know what I'm doing! I'm lost!" She exhaled heavily, releasing another sob. "I'm lost without you, Rex!" Looking towards the ceiling, it might as well have been heaven for she called out to her dead husband, "Do you even hear me, Rex! I can't do it alone! I can't! I can't! I didn't kill you! I swear it on my own life! Don't leave me here, Rex! Don't leave me here alone!" Laying the utility knife aside, she clutched her stomach with her hands still clad in the yellow rubber gloves and bent over so that her head was touching the floor. Her body still shook from her muffled cries.

"Rex... Rex... Rex..." she repeated over and over, the previous one fainter than the one before, as though the mantra was going to being her some kind of nirvana. Instead of spiraling toward a resolution of her mangled feelings, she was falling into a depressive void and catatonic numbness. Reality had all but slipped through her fingers when a hand was placed on either side of her shoulders, pulling up her listless body. Perturbed, Bree opened her eyes barely enough to see a face looking back at her. Usually, mussed hair and streaked make-up would've horrified her, but at the moment, the normally kempt Mrs. Van De Kamp could've cared less how she looked.

"Bree, I'm here honey. I'm here." The figure engulfed her with two strong arms that brought her trembling body close to his steady one. Without a fight, she lay her head on a soft shoulder.

Her vision cleared as the last of her tears left her eyes and streamed down her face. She would've recognized that voice anywhere. The scent, the feel, the touch...

"Rex?" the whisper left her chapped pink lips. The final bit of blurriness dissipated and the man sitting in her living room floor holding her as he had for the last eighteen years was indeed Dr. Rex Van De Kamp. Freeing herself from his embrace, she leaned back to get a good look of him.

Wiping her eye with the back of her hand, she laughed caustically, "Oh my God, I've finally gone insane. I'm hallucinating i and /i hearing voices."

"Bree, you're not hallucinating and you're definitely not mad," responded the man in all seriousness. "I'm just as real as... as you. As this house." He reached for her arm but she quickly jerked it away.

"Don't touch me!" she hissed. "You... you're just not real, plain and simple. I'm not going to look at you any more. I'm going to ignore you and... and I'm going to continue to clean this blood off my floor." Picking up her scrub-brush, she intended to pick up where she'd left off, but the man before her gently took it from her hand and laid it down beside him.

"Honey, listen to me. You're not crazy. I know this is a little strange, but Bree, I'm not dead. I'm here. With you. In our house."

She shook her head violently. "No, no, no! I should've talked to that psychiatrist. I'm losing my mind! I can't handle this! I should've stayed at the hospital, but Danielle needed me. She was in trouble..."

"I know, I know..."

"...and then Matthew pointed the gun at my head. He almost shot me. i Almost /i . If the police hadn't shot him first, that blood stain could've been mine. Danielle would've had to clean my blood off of the floor like I cleaned my mother's off the street. And the whole time he had that gun pointed at my head I kept saying to myself, 'If I don't die, then I get to stay with Danielle, but if he pulls the trigger, then I'll get to see you again'." The words resembled rambling as they rapidly spilled from her mouth in quick succession. Her lips quivered with emotion and she teared up again.

"Oh Bree, I'm so sorry." The man claiming to be Bree's husband reached for her, and though she tried to back away, he seized her body securely with his arms, refusing to let her go. A little reluctant at first to melt into his embrace, her defenses hastily gave way and she grasped onto him for dear life. Two tears slid down her cheek and onto his shirt-clad shoulder as she laced her fingers through his dark hair.

"If you are a hallucination, please leave now because I don't think I could handle losing you again," Bree whispered into his ear.

He stroked her back as if he was soothing a fussy baby. "You won't lose me again, Bree. I'm here to stay. I'm so sorry for everything you've been through. We'll get passed it, I'm sure of it."

"Why did you leave me! Why did you leave me all alone to deal with the problems with Andrew and George? Why, Rex? Just tell me why," she lamented sorrowfully. Her body trembled with eight months of heartache.

Rex pulled away to look at his wife. He tucked a wayward strand of her fiery red hair behind her ear and she caught the hand and held it to her cheek. Moist green eyes looked back at him pleading for answers, but he regretfully shook his head.

"Tomorrow I promise to answer whatever question you have, but tonight you should rest. You're exhausted."

"No!" she replied furiously, letting go of his hand. "We're going to talk now! I want answers. I want to know why you left me, why you left your children. Do you know what kind of hell you put them through? Do you know what I've been through trying to raise them by myself while you were off God knows where doing... doing God knows what!"

"In the morning, Bree, after you've slept, I promise to give you all the answers you need, but right now, I'm concerned about your state of mind." Looking around at the piece of floor that had been stabbed repeatedly, he licked his lips and decided to proceed with extra caution, mindful of Bree's fragile state. "I don't... I don't want to add to the stress that's already been placed on it tonight. I'm not trying to evade your questions, please just trust me. Tomorrow we'll talk about anything and everything you want, but right now I want to take care of you like I should've been doing these past few months."

Bree just stared at her husband. She'd stopped crying, but the look of incredulity on her face remained. Deep down, she still couldn't decide whether she was experiencing a nervous breakdown or if her husband, in the living flesh, was actually in her house standing in front of her. She'd made up her mind not to get her hopes up, because for all she knew she had fallen asleep while cleaning the floor and was dreaming. It was a cruel joke that her mind was playing on her, but she felt powerless to fight it at the moment.

"Will you stay with me?" she asked in a small, scared voice.

"Do you want me to?"

"More than anything."

Rex breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

Lifting himself off the floor, he then extended his hand to his wife and helped her up. Without letting go, she affectionately and quietly guided him up the stairs to the bedroom they had once shared. When Bree opened the door to the darkened room, it was like all those other nights before his supposed death when they'd climbed the stairs to go to bed. Nearly a year of loneliness and grief was forgotten in the magic of the present. Bree didn't believe in dreams coming true. That was fairytale stuff, yet it all felt real to her. She felt the floor beneath her feet, she felt the softness of Rex's skin in her hand, she felt the fatigue in her bones and muscles and she felt the confusion in her mind. Right now, she didn't want to have to think because she feared that if she thought to much, the alternate reality into which she had inadvertently stumbled would fade and Rex would be gone from her. Again.

"What are you thinking about?" Rex asked as he watched her undress for bed. The ghostly light of the moon fell through the window and bathed her porcelain skin with its translucent beams. The copper hue of her hair was especially illuminated, contrasting sharply with the pale color of her skin. It was then that even Rex began to question whether this wasn't a dream that would lead them both to disappointment when they awoke.

Turning to face him clad only in a shoulder-bearing nightgown, she once more had the look of someone who had lost her way in a big, merciless world. "I'm thinking of all the things that I'd planned to say when I saw you again. If your death had, in fact, turned out to be a bad dream or if you were merely trying to get even with me for the things I did to you before you left, I'd made a mental list of things to say to you when you returned."

Bree went over to the bed and pulled the comforter down to its foot. Untucking the blanket and sheet, Rex lifted them up, allowing Bree to crawl in underneath. He slipped in behind her, opening his arms in an invitation to join him. Without hesitation, Bree left her side of the bed and nestled into his warmth, surrounding herself with what she had missed so desperately. Placing her nose in the crook of his neck, she inhaled deeply.

"I've missed you," she said ever so softly.

Rex responded by kissing her forehead and saying, "I've missed you, too. And the kids. I thought about you all everyday."

Bree tightened her grip on her husband, as though any minute he would disappear forever, leaving her with just another memory to cling to when the silence of the night became too loud.

After a while of laying in each others' arms, Rex inquired curiously, "What kinds of things had you planned to say to me?"

Her voice thick with sleep, Bree answered, "I never knew whether to slap you or to jump you. In almost every scenario I imagined, I may have started out being angry with you, but I always ended up forgiving you."

"That's good to know," Rex softly chuckled. He felt Bree's breathing even out somewhat and become more serene. He knew that she was straddling the border of consciousness and its opposite. With deft fingers, he delicately caressed her long locks of hair, twining it around his fingers and letting it glide along his skin.

"Rex, there are many things that you need to know."

"Not tonight, darling. They can wait until tomorrow."

Almost slurring her words, Bree half-heartedly fought to stay awake long enough to spill those things which made her heart so heavy. "No, I have to tell you tonight. Just in case I wake up and you're gone."

"Honey, I'll be here in the morning. There's no rush."

"Rex, shut up and listen. I didn't poison you, it was George Williams, the pharmacist. I–I didn't know until it was too late. I'm so sorry, so very sorry, Rex. It was all my fault that you died..."

"Shhh, Bree. Go to sleep," hushed Rex.

"And Andrew. I dropped him off. I packed his things, gave him money and dropped him off. He's alone out there and I don't know where he is. I couldn't control him. It was all too much. Couldn't take it anymore... I'm a bad mother..." Bree's voice spiraled down the tunnel of sleep, dropping off more and more after each sentence. Her body became more restful as her worries were silenced by the contentment that swept her body. Rex continued to stroke her hair as he placed another kiss on her brow.

"You're not a bad mother. Our kids, unfortunately, just can't tell the difference."

"And... And I slapped your mother," she paused for a moment and then continued, "Well, i bitch-slap /i is what Danielle termed it."

"Oh, really. Did she deserve it?" Rex tried to contain his amusement. Bree's closed eyes didn't get to see the mirthful smile that played on his lips.

"I thought so, but then you know about my zero tolerance for dramatic displays of emotional over-kill. I'm sure someone probably thought I came across a little harsh."

"Good night, Bree."

"There's one more thing, Rex. In case you really are just a dream or a hallucination that's messing with my poor mind, I want you to know that I love you. So very much I love you and am in love with you... Always have been... Always will be..." With those final words, Bree finally let loose the strings that kept her in the world of the awake and the sentient and drifted into slumber, finally satisfied that she'd gotten to speak to her husband just one more time.

When the golden rays of the sun woke her in the morning, she felt rested and strangely at ease. When her drowsy early-morning thoughts reverted to the events of the night before, she immediately turned over in bed to find that Rex wasn't laying beside her. She was alone. Looking around the room, she didn't see an article of his clothing or any evidence that he'd come for a late night visit. Whether he'd really been there or not, Bree lay back down and buried her face in her pillow, letting out a heart-wrenching sob.


	2. How to Save a Life

**Chapter: **02–_How to Save a Life_

**Author's Notes: **I'm sorry that it's taken so long to churn out chapter number two, but life has been so hectic and busy. It's almost twice as long as the last one, however, I felt that a lot of things needed to be explained so unfortunately, there aren't a lot of action or thriller scenes in this chapter, LOL. I hope it doesn't disappoint!

The chapter is named for the song that inspired it-_-How to Save a Life _by The Fray. (Yes, I get very inspired by music.)

Here I shall proceed to beg and beseech you for comments and reviews. Feedback motivates me like you wouldn't believe. ;)

* * *

The first light of morning can bring a new perspective to one's life. Things that hadn't been apparent when the person had gone to bed the night before now become much clearer. Fresh revelations, sudden realizations and newfound interpretations sneak upon us when the rays of the sun are just beginning to creep along the horizon, ushering in a new day. We awaken from our beds, some of us rested, some of us less so, to begin another day, with renewed hope and faith that the next twenty-four hours will bring us that for which we so desperately desire; whether it simply be a little peace and tranquility, a phone call from an old friend, unexpected visitors or to see loved ones we thought had departed from our lives. Unfortunately for Bree Van De Kamp, it would seem her hopes were dashed not more than two minutes after she awoke.

She had been having an amazing dream. Feelings of warmth and security had enveloped her sleep and only pleasant thoughts permeated her unconscious mind. She dreamed of prismatic gardens and fine wine and friendly neighbors and happiness. She dreamed in a vivacious palette of color, rich hues intricately woven to create pictures that would've otherwise appeared lackluster to her encumbered consciousness. The chains of her burdened reality had lifted and she felt unbound by compulsion and repression. For the first time in more than a year, she felt protected. Even through the thick haze of sleep, Bree sensed someone watching over her, keeping at bay all her demons and the nightmares that had previously plagued her slumber. But as the infant rays of the sun broke through the darkness of the night, the somnolent swirls of her mind began to lift, stirring it awake.

Slowly, Bree opened her eyes. The sun's heated shafts of light shone on her face while birds chirped a cheerful melody outside the bedroom window. She lay on her side; her fiery red hair appeared especially bright against the white pillow which cushioned her head. A sheet and blanket were casually thrown over her lower body, covering everything save her feet. For the first few minutes, she tarried in bed and tried to remember the dreams which had soothed her hurting soul. Though she couldn't recall specifics or finer details, she did remember the brilliant colors that had painted her dreams making them look utterly surreal. Only momentarily did she pause to reflect upon those things before her mind inadvertently shifted to the events that occurred prior to her falling asleep. The sleepiness that still lingered slowed her thought process somewhat, but with a little forced effort she remembered drifting off to sleep in the arms of her husband.

Rex.

Immediately, an anxious Bree turned over and briskly scanned the bed only to find there was no one beside her. Surveying the rest of the room, there was no evidence that anyone other than she had ever been in the room. _He had been so real! Rex had to have been here_, she kept repeating to herself. She had been in such a frantic state the night before, but she could still remember the feel of his arms when he held her. Even now, she could see his face as he watched her in the moonlight getting ready for bed. It just couldn't have been a figment of her fragile mind! However, the evidence pointed to the contrary, for there was nothing to substantiate that Rex had ever been in the bedroom at all. When Bree realized this, she put her face in her pillow and wept bitterly. Intense sobs racked her body and brought back all the pain that had seemed to evaporate during the night.

Everything was coming back to her now: Matthew Applewhite's shooting, the bloodstain in the floor and the utility knife she used to try and remove it, the feelings of helplessness and abandonment... All those negative, stinging feelings were afresh in her mind conjuring up other memories that brought her anguish, such as Andrew. She could only wish that she was numb. If she were numb, the pain would go away. That's when she decided to do something about it.

Barefoot and clad only in her white nightgown, she got out of bed and silently walked downstairs. The more and more she remembered from the night before, the more distraught she felt and the more cross she became with herself for being such a fool. _No one can come back from the dead_, she chided herself. Finally, she made her way into the kitchen and went straight to the cupboard located under the sink where all the canned goods were kept. In the back corner, hidden behind several large cans of vegetables, was an unopened bottle of wine.

With shaky hands, she clumsily retrieved it, knocking over several cans in the process. Standing up, she flung open door of the cupboard where the glasses were kept and grabbed a wine glass. With the wine bottle in one hand and the glass in the other, Bree merely stood there rooted to the kitchen floor, looking at both. She knew she shouldn't drink, but her life had become too unbearable to deal with at the moment. Maybe tomorrow, everything would be better and she wouldn't need alcohol anymore, but right now, she needed it, even craved it. Maybe she wouldn't drink a full glass, maybe only a couple of sips would calm her down and allay her pain. Anyway, no one else had a right to tell her she couldn't drink! No one else had been through all that she'd been put though. How dare they judge her! If they knew how she felt inside, they would surely understand why she needed the alcohol.

Sitting the wine bottle and glass down on the counter, she fetched a corkscrew from a drawer. Once the bottle was opened, she messily poured the wine into the goblet and all thoughts of taking just a drink or two were drowned in both her sorrow and the wine that flooded her mouth and burned its way down her throat. Her trembling hands refilled her glass and upon looking at it full, she felt a deep hatred for herself. Bree, the cool, calm and collected perfectionist who always had total control over everything had been reduced to a dependent, sniveling lunatic. And what hurt the most was that there was no one left to care. With that thought, she brought the glass up to her lips and drank thirstily.

"Bree, what are you doing?" came a voice from behind her.

Startled, Bree coughed as a bit of wine went down the wrong way. Sitting the glass on the counter, she continued to cough until she was handed a cup filled with water. Taking a couple of sips, she returned to normal. To her amazement, though, Rex stood as plain as day in the kitchen.

"Rex?" she whispered.

"Bree, what do you think you're doing?" Rex's voice was one of concern but edged with anger.

"Is it really you, Rex?" Bree walked over to him and put her hand on his face.

Rolling his eyes, he responded, "I thought we've already been over this. I'm not dead, Sweetheart, I'm really here. In the flesh."

Bree's mouth fell open, "I thought... I thought I was just dreaming... or going crazy. I woke up and you weren't in bed and there weren't any clothes laying around, so I had assumed..."

"Yeah, well, I thought I'd make breakfast for us, but you didn't have any eggs or milk, so I went to the store..."

Rex didn't get to finish his sentence because in one swift movement, Bree bridged the distance between them, brought her hand up and slapped Rex across the face. Hard.

"Ow! What the hell was that for!" he demanded.

"How do you think I felt when I woke up and you weren't there!" she shouted wrathfully.

Still rubbing his cheek, now reddened from the force of Bree's hand, he responded, "Honey, I thought I'd get back before you woke up. You didn't go to sleep until late last night, so I thought you'd sleep in! That still doesn't explain what you were doing when I walked in the door." He went over to the counter and picked up the bottle of wine. "Drinking so early in the morning, Bree? It's just a little after six-thirty."

Furiously, she grabbed the bottle from him and put it back on the counter. "You have no right to question me, Rex. You don't know how stressful it's been since you've been gone."

"So, you drink a glass to calm your nerves?"

"Sometimes, yes," she proffered and hastily turned away from him.

"Ok, so one glass calms your nerves; what do two glasses do? Three? Don't lie to me Bree because I know you've just opened this bottle and it's already almost half-empty."

She quickly turned around and immediately wished she hadn't because she instantly felt light-headed. Through her clenched teeth, she hissed, "Who are you to ask questions? You show up out of the blue last night when I hadn't seen you in nearly a year, then you sneak off in the morning leaving me to think I've gone stark raving mad! And you question _me_ about my drinking? Take a guess as to why I drink, Rex!" she raved venomously.

"Bree, that's enough," Rex took the bottle and poured its contents down the sink. "I know about your drinking. You can't use alcohol to deal with your problems."

Bree narrowed her eyes. "How do you know about 'my drinking', as you put it?"

"Last night you said you had questions and I told you I'd answer every one of them in the morning. Well, it's morning and if you think you're, uh, _sober_ enough, I'll be glad to tell you anything you want to know."

Pursing her lips together, she said, "Fine. We'll start with 'why aren't you dead'?"

Exhaling deeply, Rex went over to the kitchen table and sat down in a chair, motioning for Bree to join him. She sat down in the chair across from him.

"Wow," he laughed nervously. "I'd always imagined this conversation going a little easier in my mind, but now it seems that the words are getting stuck in my throat. Well, um, I suppose it'll be best if I start at the beginning."

"Yes, that's probably for the best since I have no idea what's going on and I have no patience for trying to put pieces of your story together," an irritated Bree snapped.

"Ok, well, remember when I was having so much trouble with my heart following the second heart attack and the doctor upped the dosage of my medication because he didn't understand why I was getting worse?"

Bree swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat. She felt prematurely sickened that she was going to have to relive some of her most painful memories. "Yes," she spoke barely above a whisper.

"At the time, I knew you were secretly meeting George. I'd told you to stay away from him because I knew he thought more of you than you did of him. Our marriage was still shaky and you seemed so unhappy. So, I thought that you'd finally made up your mind to be with George and were only counting down the days until you ended the marriage."

When Rex spoke of George, Bree blanched. It never occurred to her that Rex knew about their outings. However, it wasn't as though she had met George for some illicit affair. She'd only intended it as a get-together between mere friends and nothing more.

"The thought of ending the marriage never entered my mind at that time! Yes, we were a bit rocky, but I never wanted to leave you for George!"

Gritting his teeth, Rex spat resentfully, "How was I suppose to know that, Bree? All I knew was that my wife was meeting her male _friend_ in secret when I knew what George's true intentions were. I mean, I didn't know that he intended to kill me, but I knew his eye was on you and that he was probably entertaining thoughts that were more than just _friendly_."

"It's so wonderful that you trusted me, Rex," she retorted bitingly.

"I trusted George even less, but you wouldn't listen to me and you continued to see him behind my back. Before I went in to surgery, Dr. Craig and I had a talk. He thought that perhaps you'd been poisoning me. At first, I couldn't imagine, or I should say, I didn't _want _to imagine such a thing being true, but after he left me alone, I started thinking and certain things began adding up. The most likely conclusion seemed to be that you were trying to kill me so that you could be together with George and receive the insurance settlement that was sure to come later. Upon my death, you'd automatically get the house, the cars, the kids and all the money. It seemed my death was the perfect plan."

"You think me so low as to actually be capable of doing something like that!" cried an enraged Bree. Her normally porcelain white skin was now flushed crimson. She knew she didn't have a right to be angry. It was her fault for carrying on with George, leading him on, making him think he had a chance with her. If Rex was furious with her, she deserved every bit of it, but at the same time, it hurt her tremendously to know that he'd thought these things about her; she who had loved him above anything else.

Rex protested, "I was a very sick man, Bree! Someone was obviously trying to kill me by messing with my medication and they would've succeeded, too, without the surgery. Thank God for the blood tests which showed an abnormally high potassium level. We were able to bring those levels down just in time. I still had the operation, the doctor inserted a pacemaker and thankfully, I haven't had any severe problems since. I wrote you a note just before I was wheeled in to the operating room, just in case..." here, Rex paused briefly, wetting his lips, "just in case I didn't make it."

Bree nodded sadly, "I received it. It was devastating to me."

"I'm sorry."

At this, she shook her head, "It's not your fault. If anyone should be held responsible, it should be me."

"No, Bree, don't think like that," Rex reached across the table and grabbed his wife's hand and held it dearly. "You couldn't have known what George was up to. No one, not you or me, could've known he was such a sociopath." Tears threatened Bree's eyes, but she forced them back. Every word that came out of Rex's mouth made her heart seem heavier and heavier.

"So, what happened next?" she asked timidly. She didn't know if she wanted to hear it or not, but curiosity had gotten the better of her.

Rex chewed on his lip in a nervous fashion. "When I regained consciousness after the surgery, Dr. Craig and I talked at length about what to do next. He was convinced it was you who was switching my medication and urged me to go to the police."

"Well, why didn't you?"

"Because deep down, I'd thought that if you were, in fact, trying to do away with me, maybe I deserved it. After the Maisy Gibbons affair and then the S and M stuff and all our fighting, I thought maybe I'd pushed you too far and you were just trying to get back at me. I don't know. I really don't know why I didn't go to the police. Maybe I just didn't want to believe it was you who was trying to do me in. It was a confusing time after the surgery; I was groggy from the anesthesia, I was trying to get used to new meds..."

"So, you actually made it through the surgery just fine?"

Looking somewhat sheepish, Rex responded in a small voice, "Yeah."

Once again, anger licked Bree's insides. Flashbacks starting firing off in her mind of the phone call from the doctor saying that Rex has died, of her polishing the silver trying to forget the news that she'd just heard, of Rex's funeral, and she became even more infuriated.

"Do you know how much hell you put me through?" she fumed. "When the doctor told me that you'd died, a little part of me died, too. It was the biggest shock of my life and I've been living with it for nearly a year!" She jerked her hand out of Rex's and narrowed her eyes reproachfully. "I've been living with the guilt of your death and it's been almost insufferable at times!"

"I'm so sorry, Bree. I can't imagine–"

"No you can't!" she yelled scathingly. "But I've had to deal with it, on top of dealing with the kids, your mother and an inquiry by the police because they, too, suspected me of having killed you!"

Rex appeared apologetic and in a softer tone, he responded, "I thought that if I went away, you'd eventually move on or work things out with George or find someone else that you really loved and lead a happy life. All I knew, or thought I knew, was that you'd tried to kill me. I knew I hadn't been the perfect husband and I'd been a jerk a times. I didn't think you'd be that upset. Well, maybe in the beginning, but you've always been so good in picking up the pieces and moving on and I thought that in time you'd be able to find someone else."

"Unbelievable," laughed Bree sarcastically. "Is that what you did, Rex, after you _went away_? Did you _move on_?Did you find someone else and give no further thought to me? Or Andrew or Danielle? Because let me tell you something, Rex Van De Kamp, there was not one day or one night that the thought of you didn't cross my mind. When I got dressed in the morning, I thought about how you always loved to see me in blue, so I'd wear blue. When I looked at our children, I could see you in their features. When I walked into the living room, there were pictures of you on the wall that I couldn't bear to take down. You weren't here, but yet you were all around me. I couldn't escape you just because you weren't here!" Bree let a violet sob escape her quivering mouth. Tears stained her face as they made their way downward. Embarrassed and livid, she shot up from the chair she'd been sitting in and went over to the sink, placing both her hands on the counter for balance as she leaned over.

Rex got up and went over to his wife. He tried to put his arms around her, but she resisted, backing away from him.

"Don't touch me, Rex," she warned as she was facing away from him. All Rex could see was the long red hair that concealed her face.

"Bree, honey, I'm so sorry. I don't know how to tell you how sorry I am." Rex truly didn't know what to do. He felt helpless, as helpless as Bree had appeared last night when she was on the floor crying her heart out.

"At this moment, I am not interested in how sorry you are. I could care a less about how sorry you are because you couldn't be any sorrier than I am that I ever agreed to marry you. The only thing good that ever came out of our marriage was our kids, and they've turned on me, too.

"Anyways, continue on with the rest of your sordid story. I'm eager to hear how low your opinion of me reached."

"My opinion of you never changed, Bree. I still respected you and loved you."

"Somehow, I doubt that," she scoffed doubtfully. "Continue."

"As I was recovering, I kept thinking about you and George and my meds being switched and I'll admit to being angry. Hell, I almost died! I figured that if you wanted me dead, I'd at least do you a last courtesy. So, I came up with a plan to just disappear, letting everyone think that I had died. I had talked to Dr. Craig at length about it and we worked out the details. He agreed to call you and give you the bad news and then I'd be on my way. However, it didn't work out as simply as that. Soon after, the police visited me.

"Apparently, Dr. Craig had already called them, unbeknownst to me, hoping that I'd turn you in and that I'd forget my plan. They asked me some questions which I carefully answered and they'd told me of their own suspicions of you and George Williams. Evidently, George had some priors on his record and the police were looking into the possibility of him having something to do with trying to poison me. He was our pharmacist, after all.

"Later, I found out that George had records in a couple of other states, but I didn't find that out until I did my own digging. So, when the FBI showed up to question me, I was quite shocked. One of the first things they told me was that it would be beneficial for me to go into hiding because if George or you found out that I was still alive, who's to say that one of you wouldn't try to kill me again and actually succeed? Upon hearing this, naturally I was scared."

"The FBI was in on it, too?" Bree inquired incredulously. She was now facing Rex, her arms crossed just above her waist.

Rex nodded, "Yeah, it seems that George was a suspect for several attempted murder, assault and battery, arson and vandalism cases in two other states. The police had long suspected him, but could never prove anything."

"And you decided to save yourself by running away, leaving the kids and me here to defend ourselves!" screeched Bree.

"You were never in any immediate danger, Bree," he reasoned. "You were what George wanted, he'd never harm you. He had a history, a pattern, of harming anyone who got in the way of what he wanted. You were safe. Those who stood in his way were not and I happened to stand in his way.

"The FBI, the police and I decided that I would go undercover, the length of time indeterminable. I'd move, change my name and begin a new life while the police and FBI watched you and George to try and collect enough evidence to bring charges against either one of both of you."

Bree interjected, not quite understanding, "But the funeral. You were laying in the coffin... I saw you dead!"

"Yeah, that was me. A trick of both make-up and medication, which was administered and carefully monitored by the doctor. After the funeral service, when everyone had left for the cemetery, I was secretly left at the church while an empty coffin was taken to the cemetery for burial. Following a brief examination by Dr. Craig, I was off to begin my new life."

"Where did you go?"

"I went to my mother's. Because I'd just had surgery, I needed to recover and she was the most logical place to go. She nearly fainted when I showed up on her doorstep. I told her everything and made her promise to keep quiet and not say anything to you or the kids."

"I'm sure that was hard to do," muttered Bree sardonically.

"I'd heard that you two didn't get along very well when she came to visit," a wry grin played on Rex's face. "I should probably thank you for not letting me wear that hideous orange tie at the funeral."

"Yes, well, you owe Tom Scavo a tie."

"Thank you," the words left his mouth wrapped in the utmost affection and sincerity.

"You don't need to thank me, I was just doing my wifely duty of laying her husband to rest and grieving for him, even though he was having a blast elsewhere while she sat at home surrounded by her sorrow and guilt."

"It wasn't a blast," he remarked in a dry tone. "I got on, but I was homesick and unhappy. I missed you."

"Even though you thought that I'd been the one trying to kill you?"

"Something inside me told me that it wasn't you, but I was sullen and disoriented and trying to learn to live with a pacemaker and getting used to taking some powerful heart medication. There were a lot of irrational thoughts that entered my head at that time. Gradually, things started to smooth out. The drugs I was put on were working well for me and I was feeling better. Health-wise, that is. I was lonely and I soon realized that I needed you so much. Every once in a while I'd dream of you. I'd go for a walk and think that every red-head in a cardigan was you. There were times when suddenly, out of nowhere, I could've sworn that I smelled your perfume."

Rex went back over to the table and sat down, deep in thought. Bree joined him, her eyes brimming with tears. His sentiments had touched her. She couldn't find it in her heart to let go of the deception, but she was genuinely touched by her husband.

Clearing her throat of the emotions that had collected there, she inquired, "I'm sure the police updated you on the case periodically and I'm certain you heard about George's death. Why didn't you return then?"

Rex looks at his hands thoughtfully and sighed. "I wasn't sure if me coming back would've helped us. We had so many problems before I'd gone into the hospital and we never worked through them, you just covered them over like you always did and pretended they didn't exist. Did you know that last night was the first time in years that I'd seen you cry? We were all living in a Stepford nightmare!"

"Then why even come back at all! Why didn't you stay away, Rex? First you come back 'from the dead' and now you're telling me that you left because you needed to get away from me. Well, what about the kids? What did they ever do for you to dump them off on me?"

"I thought they'd be happier living with you," he said bluntly.

Bree shook her head. "No you didn't. Just admit it; you couldn't possibly be saddled down with two teenagers who have constant needs while you're out trying to find happiness and freedom from your Stepford-wife. I think you're nothing more than an irresponsible adult who's running away from his problems!"

"Bree, the police suggested for me to go into hiding when they thought and you and George were trying to kill me! If it's anyone's fault, I'd say it was partially yours for getting involved with that sociopath in the first place!"

Bree seethed and she didn't trust herself to keep from reaching over and wringing Rex's neck. "Once George died and the police proved that I wasn't the one trying to poison you, there was nothing keeping you from coming back home. I needed you here. You have no earthly idea of what I've been through; of what Andrew and Danielle have been through!"

"I may not have been here, but I have somewhat of an idea what went on. I hired a private detective to look in on you from time to time. I wanted to make sure you and the kids were ok. I know about George's death, about Andrew suing you, about Danielle running off with Matthew Applewhite, about Andrew being dropped off in the middle of nowhere... and about your drinking problem and checking yourself into the psychiatric hospital."

"I would hardly call it a problem," Bree said curtly.

"It is a problem, Bree. I also know about your DUI and the time you fell asleep while babysitting Lynette's children. Hell, I found you in here this morning shoving a glass of wine down your throat! And last night... Bree you've got a problem and I think the alcoholism is only the symptom. There's other stuff going on with you that you're not telling anyone about."

Bree snickered, "Since when did you become a psychologist, Rex? Did you do a lot of reading while you were getting a break from your family?"

Rex sighed wearily, "I concede that I've made a lot of mistakes, but I'm here now. Doesn't that count for anything?"

"That's like a firefighter asking if he can help after a building has already burned to the ground."

"But he can help pick up the pieces and rebuild."

"I'm not so sure it's as simple as that. Did you think you were just going to come back and pick up where we left off?"

"No," Rex gave a light chuckle, "Nothing's ever simple with us."

The corners of Bree's mouth turned up slightly at his jest, but she in all seriousness she continued, "Rex, I don't know if I can ever forgive you or forget what you've done. I don't know if our marriage can survive this and I don't know if I even want to give it another chance. I could never trust you again."

"So, what you said last night about forgiving me in the end, you didn't mean it?"

Turning away from her husband, she replied in an impulsive manner, "I don't even remember most of last night. It's all so hazy to me.

"Tell me, though, why of all nights did you choose last night to come back?"

Lifting his eyes to meet her's, he answered, "The private detective called to tell me that there was a serious situation going on here, that someone had been shot. He didn't have any details, but I didn't wait for them. I got here as soon as I could. When I came in through the door, I saw you rocking back and forth and crying. All the way here, I was so scared that something had happened to you or Danielle. If anything had happened to any of you, I don't think I could've ever forgiven myself."

For several minutes, neither of them said anything. Bree didn't know what to feel or to think. There was so much to digest. She'd lied when she told Rex that she hadn't remembered much about last night; she did, in fact, remember the pure ecstasy and joy she felt in seeing him again after thinking him dead and herself alone and a widow. But that feeling was lost somewhere in all the animosity and betrayal she felt encompassing her body.

It happened that just then, a half-awake and yawning Danielle dressed in her flannel pyjamas traipsed into the kitchen, finding both her parents sitting at the kitchen table. Her eyes swiftly grazed the form of her mother and when they looked upon her father, they widened dramatically, causing her mouth fall completely open.

"Daddy?" she asked anxiously, now fully awake.

"Good morning, Danielle," he answered warmly as he arose from his chair. His daughter ran from the doorway and flung herself into her father's arms, crying profusely, albeit jubilantly.

"Daddy, I can't believe it's you! Oh my God, I've missed you so much!" Danielle buried her pretty face in her father's shirt and sobbed.

"I've missed you so much, too, Sweetheart. More than I realized." Tears clouded Rex's eyes and his arms tightened around his daughter. He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back soothingly. The two of them stood in the kitchen and reunited as Bree watched on, also with tears in her eyes. She was overjoyed that Danielle had found happiness in seeing her father again, but also a little jealous that just two days ago she'd been on the run from her mother trying to get as far as possible from her. What she wouldn't give to have her children lunge themselves into her arms like that. In silence, she wistfully looked upon them.

When Danielle finally freed herself from her father's shirt, she looked up at him with her rosy, tear-streaked face and implored, "Daddy, where've you been? I thought you were dead! I'm so, so happy to see you! I just... I just can't believe it! I feel like I'm dreaming!"

Rex wiped what tears he could from her face and said, "You must have a lot of questions, so how about this afternoon we'll go out to lunch so we can talk, just you and me, and afterward I'll take you shopping or we can catch a movie?"

"Ok," Danielle responded as she hugged her father securely. "It's so good to have you home, Daddy. It's been so unbelievably miserable here!"

Bree felt absolutely crushed at her daughter's words. If it was possible for her heart to feel any heavier, it did and it showed on her face. Rex had witnessed the sudden change in his wife's features after Danielle had spoken of her misery. Suddenly thrust into a state of uneasiness, he didn't know what to say to his daughter or to her mother and, hence, a thick fog of awkwardness permeated the room.

Rising from her chair, Bree mustered what dignity she had left and quickly excused herself, "Um, I've got some laundry to put away."

Feeling dejected and humiliated, she headed upstairs, leaving her husband and daughter to themselves. She found her way to her bedroom and collapsed in an armchair beside the window. She was too numb to cry and, anyway, she didn't feel like crying. There wasn't a single emotion coursing though her at the moment but rather a melange of rage, shame, guilt, sadness, disbelief, envy, and bitterness that ate at her. It was wrong to fault Danielle for being so thrilled to see her father alive and well after thinking him dead for a year and she tried to understand how it would feel to see her own mother if she should come walking through the door at any minute. However, Rex hadn't been there through all the rough patches. He hadn't dealt with the children and their problems as she had.

Bree knew she wasn't the perfect mother, but she'd been there for her children and she'd tried to parent to the best of her ability, yet Danielle, without a moment's hesitation, had instantly flocked to her father who'd left–no, _abandoned_–his children. It was her who had protected them, who had cared about them and worried herself sick over them. And _still_ Danielle had preferred her father even after seeing her mother with a gun to her head, offering herself to Matthew Applewhite if it would somehow save Danielle from making mistakes that could've cost her life. Stunned at the selfish thoughts that had penetrated her mind, Bree all of a sudden felt guilty as she hadn't done any of it for recognition or to gain favor with her daughter. All that she desired from her children was to finally be accepted and loved for being a caring mother despite her faults and shortcomings. She wanted them to run into her arms first, not to the father that had deceived them for a year by hiding away pretending to be dead.

All of them had ended up leaving her at one point or another: first Rex, then Andrew and Danielle. It seemed they were all trying to run away from her. Andrew had been so desperate to get away that he tried using the courts to obtain emancipation and sleeping with his mother's boyfriend until eventually he was forced out of the house and his mother's life. Danielle simply ran away. The fact that her daughter had preferred to go on the run with a murderer rather than stay at home with her mother killed Bree on the inside. She envisaged Lynette and the four Scavo children who adored their mother in spite of their penchant for mischief and misbehavior; and she thought of Susan who had a wonderful relationship with Julie, full of mutual love, respect and dedication regardless of Julie having to step in as the adult sometimes. Bree knew from church it was a cardinal sin to envy, but if she were able give back everything she possessed just to attain her children's devotion, she would do it in a heartbeat. It was hard to comprehend that the only two people on this Earth with whom she shared her body and whom she nourished with her own milk could so easily walk away from her and not look back.

Her thoughts strayed to Andrew, as they frequently did when she had a few minutes to herself. Did he think of her as often as she thought of him? There was no doubt in Bree's mind that the answer was indeed 'no', but she hoped that every now and then he would think of his mother, even if it was with the same hatred he showed her before she dropped him off in the middle of nowhere. With every day that passed, she longed for her son a little more. Something that she created was out in the big, cruel world struggling to break free from whatever hold, real or imagined, that he believed she had over him. She hoped that God could help him with his demons because she hadn't been able to do anything about them. His battles were internal, things he wouldn't confide in his mother for whatever reasons. In desperation, she'd often wished for a mirror into his soul, but there was no such thing. Andrew had been determined to liberate himself of the ball and chain his mother symbolized and nothing, not even she, could stand in his way. Occasionally, Bree wondered if he was finally happy. If she couldn't give him anything else, she gave him freedom, no matter how calamitous it had come about.

While Bree was lost in thought, a remorseful seventeen-year old had quietly slipped into her mother's bedroom. Caught unaware, Bree was slightly startled when, upon turning her head, she saw Danielle standing next to her.

"Mom, I'm–it's just–..." Danielle struggled to find the appropriate words that would explain her earlier actions that had betrayed her mother. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she ended up tearfully blurting out, "You scared me so much last night! I thought Matthew was going to shoot you!"

"Oh, honey!" At once, Bree stood up and gathered her daughter in her arms. To her surprise, Danielle clung fiercely to her. With a steady, gentle hand, Bree stroked her hair and kissed her forehead with tenderness. Any turmoil that burned in her soul dissipated as warmth and love replaced it.

"You've could've been killed, Mama!"

Leaning back just enough so she could look her daughter squarely in the face, she lovingly cupped Danielle's chin with a free hand and stressed emphatically, "Danielle, I wanted you to see how much I love you. There was no way I was going to stand by and let you walk out of my house with a liar and a murderer. I love you too much to let you get hurt. If he had to kill me just to show you what kind of monster he really was, I was willing to risk it so long as you would be ok. You are so important to me, Danielle, you _and_ your brother. I let him down so terribly and I promised I wouldn't do the same with you."

"I feel like such a mess," Danielle laughed weakly.

Bree smiled a rare smile that reached her eyes, "You and me both, Sweetie. I'm rather tired of crying and feeling so sad and guilty all the time. I think it's time for us to have a little happiness."

"Do you feel guilty because of Andrew? Because if you do, don't. He can take care of himself. You...," a look of abashment spread across the teen's face, tinging her cheeks bright scarlet, "You weren't _that_ bad of a mom. I mean, there are things that I wish, um, well... just... Never mind," she finished lamely, casting her eyes downward.

Locking her daughter in a reassuring hug, Bree said, "I know, I know. I've made so many mistakes with you and Andrew and I'm truly sorry. I realize it hasn't been easy for you, especially with the, um, alcohol and the strain between your brother and me and before that, the fighting between your father and me. We haven't been a 'typical' family in a long time..."

"How about 'never'?" interrupted a sarcastic Danielle.

Ignoring the quip, Bree continued, "...but starting now, we're going to find a way to be a very normal and happy family," she finished, but then with a wry grin she quickly added, "Well, as normal as the Van De Kamps can manage."

"And Dad?"

Although Danielle didn't see it as her head rested contentedly against Bree's chest in a poignant embrace, Bree saw Rex lingering in shadows of the doorway, leaning against its frame. Giving him a pointed look, she replied, "No matter what happens between he and I, we still love you and want the best for you. I will always love and respect him for being the father of my children and together we'll parent as a unit and make decisions that will be in your best interest. Whatever happened in the past can stay there as far as my children are concerned. I don't want you to be miserable anymore, Danielle, and your dad and I will do whatever it takes to make sure of that."

Rex blinked rapidly and Bree thought she saw his eyes glisten a little shinier than usual. Her own felt somewhat wetter and she vowed that things were going to change for the better. If she could help it, it would be a long time before any of them would have to cry again.

* * *

**More A/N: **

**PushkinsMuse: Thank you for lovely review! I hope by now you've gotten to read both chapters and still like my story. :) I appreciate you taking the time to read and review. Your review left a smile on my face. You're a dear!**

**Jaqueline: Thank you so much for commenting on my story! Your review made me feel great and was a wonderful motivation for continuing the story. Thank you and I hope that you keep reading and reviewing:)**


	3. Synchronicity

**Rated:** R for language, adult situations, sexual content, mild violence (Please pay attention to the rating!)  
**Author's Notes:** Yes, so it's been over a month since the last update. Sorry! I apologize, but it should make you feel better to know that this chapter was thirty-five pages in Microsoft Word. :)  
Lyrics are from _"Lay, Lady, Lay" _by Bob Dylan.

As always, reviews are appreciated! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed thus far! Please let me know what you think about the chapter, tell me what you'd like to see in upcoming chapters and if you think Bree and Rex will end up together by the time this fic is finished... (smirk)

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"_...Lay, lady, lay, lay across my big brass bed,  
Stay, lady, stay, stay while the night is still ahead,  
I long to see you in the morning light,  
I long to reach for you in the night..." _

Bree Van De Kamp was gently pulled from the abyss of sleep by the sound of Bob Dylan's unique voice crooning from the clock-radio that sat atop the nightstand next to her bed. The alarm had been set for six a.m. and instead of a quick succession of blaring monotone beeps that usually startled her awake every morning, a Dylan tune that hadn't graced her audial senses in many years enticed her to once again slip back into the world of the cognizant. As the sleep slowly lifted from her mind and her body, she lay contentedly in bed, snugly wrapped up in the warmth of her blanket, relishing the last few lines of the melody. As the final line of the tune faded and gave way to a commercial, the song continued to reverberate in Bree's head, conjuring up memories of old. Comforting feelings of nostalgia washed over her body and thus Bree was glad that she had accidentally chosen the wrong function when setting the alarm last night. With her eyes still closed, she smiled serenely to herself.

The song was wrapped in special meanings and memories for her. It reminded her of the college parties she'd attended, of youthful romance, of making out in the backseat of cars and of Rex. It had been 'their' song throughout their courtship and it had been the first song they danced to as a married couple at their wedding reception. In her mind, she easily conjured up the images of a twenty-year old version of herself hopping in the front seat of Rex's old convertible after class and listening to this song as they drove around campus. Even though that had taken place over twenty years ago, the memory was as clear as if it had happened yesterday. She could still feel the sun's hot rays shining down on her, see her classmates casting jealous glances at Rex and her as they drove by and she felt Rex's strong hand grab her's and graze it softly with his lips. There had been no marriage, no Andrew or Danielle, no affair, no George, no worries or responsibilities of any sort back then. It was just Rex Van De Kamp and Bree Mason living life care-free and to its fullest.

The more she thought about it, the more she recognized the sharp contrast between her life then and now. As a young adult, her life held so many promises waiting to be uncovered. There wasn't anything that she was incapable of doing, no path in life that could remain closed to her and the word 'no' held no meaning or power over her whatsoever. She remembered thinking about what kind of wedding she'd have, what her children would look like, where she and Rex would live after they got married... Now, she felt there were no surprises left. Life had taken a comfortable turn as she'd raised her children, played the roles of wife, homemaker, hostess and neighbor and idly sat by as the days and nights, months and years came and went. Somewhere along the way she'd taken her foot off the gas pedal and put her life in cruise control. To Bree, it seemed the only thing left to wait for was old age.

Groaning, she grudgingly rose from the cozy little nest she'd created in her bed to start yet another day. Mindful of Danielle sleeping in the next room and Rex being on the couch downstairs, she tiptoed from her bedroom down the hall to the bathroom, careful not to make a sound. In the two weeks since the incident with Matthew Applewhite, Danielle's sleep had occasionally been besieged with horrible nightmares causing her to wake up screaming in the middle of the night. Of course, Bree would instantly rush to her daughter's side to calm her down and lay with her until she'd fallen back into a peaceful slumber. It tore at Bree's heart to see Danielle so disturbed and she felt entirely helpless to see her daughter shaking in her bed, scared and crying. Luckily, though, she never seemed to recollect her dreams upon waking in the morning. The only noticeable trace of the unwelcome disturbances were the feelings of exhaustion that would come over her in the late afternoon. For the first time since Danielle was five or six, she would lay down and take a nap. For those reasons, Bree was extra cautious about being as quiet as a mouse as she traveled from her bedroom to the bathroom. She wanted Danielle to get whatever sleep she could even though the previous night had been relatively quiet.

The house all around her was silent, save for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room downstairs. The air was cool and still smelled of the apple pie she'd baked the night before. The linoleum-tiled floor of the bathroom was cool to the touch. Moving the shower curtain aside, she started the water, letting it warm up. Hastily, she stripped off her nightgown and panties, letting the morning chill kiss her body just before she stepped into the bathtub and plunged herself under the steaming stream of water. Initially, the hot water on her cool skin sent an involuntary shiver up her spine, but soon she relaxed and let it freely bombard her body. Perhaps it was laziness or even contentment that prevented Bree from hurrying along with her shower, but the heat of the water slowed her senses and lulled her into a state of complacency.

Without realizing it, she began humming the tune that had awoken her. She tried to remember the first time she'd ever heard it, but was unable. Certainly Rex would know, but she didn't feel like asking him a question that was sure to bring up such intimate details of their life together. He'd been back home two weeks now, but Bree still hadn't found it in herself to forgive him and didn't know if she could ever do so. The anger had mostly abated, but there were times in their conversations in which she yearned to bring up his betrayals and deceptions because she wanted him to hurt as much as she did. For the most part, she held herself back from saying anything too venomous. She had made a promise to Danielle that things would change around the Van De Kamp household and she struggled to keep her word.

In the meantime, Rex had been reintroduced to society, to the shock of all who knew them. A couple of days following his return, Bree hosted a dinner party for all her friends on Wisteria Lane. At the time, she thought it the best way to tell them about Rex's homecoming, however when they first laid eyes on him upon entering the house, their gaping mouths and wide eyes turned the atmosphere in the room into a rather awkward one. Bree felt ignominious. All through dinner, thousands of thoughts of what her neighbors must be thinking about her, about Rex and about her family scurried through her mind, none of them good. Trying to drown them out with alcohol didn't get her too far because after the fourth glass of champagne, an annoyed Rex took the bottle from her, an action which didn't escape the notice of anyone at the table. The details were a little hazy, but she recalled that in her embarrassment, she grabbed someone else's glass, stood up and made an embittered toast: "To my prodigal husband; I don't know whether to be happy he has decided that coming home beats spending the rest of his life pretending to be dead or to be upset that it took him a year to come to a decision!" Following a fifth glass of alcohol, her equilibrium became muddled and she tripped as she was determinedly walking towards the kitchen to retrieve another bottle of champagne. The last thing she remembered before blacking out was someone catching her before she could collide with the floor.

The next day, she awakened mid-morning to find herself in bed, still in her cocktail dress. When it had dawned on her what must've transpired the previous evening, overwhelming feelings of humiliation and self-loathing overtook her. For hours she laid there, sickened by what she'd done and of what her friends were probably saying about her, until Rex finally came up to check on his wife. He'd said nothing about the dinner party and she didn't ask any questions. Bree wasn't a woman given to fear, but for the rest of that week, she purposely avoided the company of Gaby, Susan, Edie and especially Lynette who had a habit of bringing up uncomfortable topics and being rather blunt about them.

Without any further episodes, week one passed uneventfully into week two. Whilst Rex went about resuming his former hobbies and acquaintances, Bree continued her daily routine of cleaning, cooking, laundering and running errands. They'd decided that although Rex would continue living in the house with her ("For Danielle's sake," she had adamantly declared), he was to sleep on the couch, do his own laundry and run his own errands. The one service she would provide was cooking his meals, only because last weekend's attempt at making a roast had proved disastrous for him at the expense of her best cookware, which was added, quite vocally, to the list of the things she couldn't forgive him for, much to Rex's exasperation. The relationship between the pair remained stiff and icy. He didn't try to touch her and she gave no indication of wanting him to. There were times in which Bree could swear that he watched her with a look of regret in his eyes, however she thought maybe she'd mistaken it for her own compunction. All the meanwhile, Rex and Bree had mutually agreed their main focus would be Danielle.

Bree finished washing the aromatic shampoo lather out of her hair and then ended the shower with a quick turn of the faucet. Now more awake and feeling refreshed, she was ready to begin the day anew. To her irritation, though, once she pulled back the shower curtain, she saw that she'd forgotten to grab a towel and her bathrobe from the laundry room on the first floor.

"Damn," she cursed under her breath. She scanned the whole bathroom for anything resembling a towel, but it was to no avail. Squeezing what water she could from her saturated hair, she timidly stepped out of the tub, heedful of the dangers of wet feet slipping on tile floors. Compulsively, her body shivered as the cool air enclosed her. Slightly hunched over in a weak attempt to cover herself, she skulked softly to the bathroom door, gingerly opened it and glanced rapidly from left to right. After making sure that no one was coming, she hurriedly stole into the hallway and headed for the bedroom. She shuddered at the thought of drenching the carpet with every wet step she took, but at the moment all that mattered was getting dry and clothed. When it appeared that she'd finally made it safely back to her room, she shut the door and breathed somewhat easier that her modesty had remained intact. However, upon turning around, to her utter horror she came face to face with Rex, donning a pair of boxer shorts and nothing else save the bathrobe that hung on his arm. Instinctively, she let out an angry squeal and bent over, trying to conceal what she could of herself.

"Rex, what are you doing in here!" she screamed a bit louder than she'd intended.

Thoroughly astonished at seeing Bree in nothing but her birthday suit, he stood rooted to the ground in bewilderment. Not knowing exactly what to do or what to make of the situation, he did the first thing that popped in his head: he covered his eyes.

"Get out of my room!" Bree shrilled in mortification.

Continuing to veil his eyes with his left hand, he exclaimed defensively, "I just came up here to get some clothes! I didn't get a chance to wash last night and I needed a shirt and pants! I heard you in the shower so I came in here to look for some. I didn't know you were going to... well... YOU KNOW!" He blindly gesticulated towards Bree with his free hand.

Clenching her teeth in fury, she growled low and dangerously, "Rex, I'm cold, I'm wet, I'm naked and you are in my room uninvited..."

Rex snickered, "Come on, Bree, we've been married for nineteen years now, it's not like I've never seen you naked before!" He started to lift his hand, but Bree interjected.

"Rex Van De Kamp, if you remove your hand, I will find some other way of blinding you and I warn you now, I'm not above gouging out your eyes to satisfy my own thirst for revenge for everything that you've done to me, including the recent destruction of my favorite cooking pan! Now get out!"

"I can't see to get out!" he protested. Thinking fast, he proffered, "Here, put this on." On his outstretched arm was his dark blue bathrobe.

Hesitantly, Bree reached out to grab it, figuring that was better than standing there frigidly in the nude. Although it was a trifle too big on her, she was grateful that it hid all the essential parts. Once she put it on, she told her husband, "Ok, you can look now."

"Better?" he asked amusingly as he uncovered his eyes.

"No," she responded flatly to his mirth without missing a beat. "Not until you get out of my room."

Grinning slyly, Rex took a couple of steps towards her and lowered his face until his mouth was next to her ear and said, "You know, this used to be _our_ room..."

Stepping back and crossing her arms just below her chest, she smirked wickedly, "Yes, a lot of things used to be ours, but when you left they became mine and mine alone and will remain so unless I decide to share them. And right now, I don't feel like sharing my bedroom _or anything else_ with anyone, least of all you. So, I'd appreciate it if you left. Now."

In all seriousness, he remarked, "I remember the days when we used to share _everything_ . It's difficult to think of you sharing those kinds of things with anyone else. Granted, it's no less than I deserve, but it doesn't make it any easier." He ended his last sentence barely above a whisper.

A desperate look crossed Rex's face and it did something to Bree. The atmosphere in the room changed; it had become heavier somehow and almost electrifying. Long dormant feelings fluttered in the depths of her stomach, causing a dull ticklish sensation to spread over her body, consequently robbing her lungs of air. They were feelings she associated with Rex. Her breaths came in quick gasps and she felt as though she was losing total control over the situation at hand. He wore that expression of regret again, the one that pained her mercilessly, but it was mixed with something else, too. Was it longing that she saw in his eyes? Of what she could see in the dim room, they had darkened significantly, taking on a feral, possessive nature. His stare made her tremble all over. Unwittingly, she drew the bathrobe tighter around her body as though it acted as a shield against those feelings that fought to devour her whole.

When Rex eventually spoke, his voice was husky, sounding strangled and forced. "If you could see what I see now... you, standing there in nothing but my bathrobe... your hair a mess, no make-up... in your bare feet..." He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Beads of sweat began forming at his hair line.

Bree was unable to move. She was sure that her pale skin was flushing a violent shade of red. Rex's bathrobe all the sudden seemed to suffocate her, causing her to feel faint. Drawing a ragged breath, she advised her husband timidly, "Rex, leave."

He hadn't the strength at the moment to try and fight with her. Nodding wordlessly, he moved to walk out of the room. However when he opened the door, he found a sleepy-eyed Danielle with mussed up hair at the threshold, her hand raised and poised to knock. Taken by surprise, she took one look at her father, then her mother, and her expression soured.

"Oh my God, please tell me you weren't doing what I think you were doing!" Danielle brought her hand up to her mouth as if she was going to be sick.

Rex gawked at her with a clueless expression on his face, not quite understanding what his daughter was getting at, and asked, "Young lady, just what is it that you think we were doing?"

Bree, in contrast, was not as slow on the uptake as her husband and she promptly realized what conclusion must've jumped to Danielle's mind upon seeing her father in his boxer shorts and her in his bathrobe.

"Oh, Danielle, no, we weren't doing anything like that," she quickly assured her daughter who was staring at them incredulously.

"You wouldn't admit to it if you were! Ew, people your age aren't suppose to do things like that! It's so gross!"

"Do things like what!" Rex begged impatiently.

"There's nothing to admit, Danielle! We weren't doing anything and even if we were, it's frankly none of your business!" Bree, who was taken aback by her daughter's teenage assumptions concerning adult relationships, took a deep breath to rid herself of the fretful emotions that Rex had stirred in her and continued in a much gentler voice, "I forgot to take a towel with me when I showered this morning and so I had to return to my room without anything on. When I came back in here, I found your father looking through the closet for some clothes. He lent me his bathrobe and that's it. Nothing more."

Danielle eyed them both suspiciously, shifting her steady gaze from one parent to the other, "So you weren't doing _that_ ? Because I could've sworn I heard screaming."

"Your father scared me, that's all," answered Bree simply.

At last, Danielle relented. "Ok... But just so you know, I like being the youngest child." With that, she returned to her bedroom and shut the door behind her.

"What the hell was that all about? What did she think we were doing?" implored an irked Rex, losing more patience every minute he was kept in the dark.

Bree spun around and exploded at her husband in aggravation, "She thought we were having sex, Rex!"

"Oh, well, gee, I wonder why she thought that!" Rex bellowed back at his wife sardonically, the deep-seated irritation and frustration more than obvious in his facial expression and voice. "I mean, why would anyone expect a _married_ couple to have sex!"

The dripping sarcasm in his voice wasn't lost on Bree, as evident in her biting retort, "We're married in name only. Unless I missed something, that does not guarantee you a damn thing from me, most of all, sex!"

The couple stalked off in different directions; once Bree dressed, she went downstairs to get started on the day's chores and Rex headed toward the bathroom to shower. The nerve he had thinking he could try and seduce her! For all she knew, he had deliberately planned to be in her bedroom when she got out of the shower for the sole purpose of looking for someone to help relieve his pent up lust. If he thought she was just some prostitute–some Maisy Gibbons!–to use and discard until the next time he needed a quick fix, then the bastard had another thing coming!

With a grimace, a grudge and a bucket full of only the best cleaning supplies on the market, she waged war on her house. That morning, the laundry got thrown into the washing machine a little harder than usual and the kitchen floor was scrubbed with twice as much strength Bree typically put forth in her chores. The more she thought about Rex, the madder she became and the cleaner her house became, in half the time it usually took. Wasn't it bad enough that he ignored her for a year and now he was back and was trying to sleep with her? Did he have no shame! It couldn't be because he loved her, Bree had told her self several times over as she maniacally scoured the inside of her oven. Men were all the same: when they need a little sexual gratification, it doesn't matter where they get it–the town whore that lives down the street or the wife they hadn't touched in months because she is apparently too damn repulsive otherwise–as long as they get what they need, what do they care where it comes from?

Lost in introspection, Bree forgot all about breakfast. It wasn't until Danielle had come downstairs and complained of an empty stomach that she realized she'd worked right through the morning. Nearing ten o'clock, she decided that it was somewhat too late for breakfast and instead whipped up a light brunch that included an egg casserole, muffins, fruit salad and juice. While she sat the table, Danielle and Rex wandered into the dining room and took their seats. As soon as her eye caught sight of Rex, her rebellious heart skipped a beat. She was still furious with him, but she couldn't forget the frenzy he'd sent her into just a few hours ago. Her brain urged her to put those feelings out of her mind, however her heart attempted to melt the icy resistance in which it was caged. The battle went unresolved and forgotten when Danielle decided to break the silence that had befallen the meal to ask her mother a question.

"So, Mawm," she began with her mouth full of egg casserole, "Thes this pawty tomowwow night..."

"Danielle, you're almost an adult; don't talk with your mouth full of food," Bree primly and benignly reprimanded."

Quickly, she gulped to rid her mouth of its contents and continued, "Anyway, there's this party tomorrow night at my friend Alexis's house and all of my friends are going. It's not going to be a very big party, it's just a few people. All we're going to do is eat some pizza and watch some movies. So... is it all right if I go?" Danielle looked at her mother expectantly.

As Bree continued to butter her muffin, she inquired, "Are you talking about Alexis Jennings? Her father was one of your dad's colleagues, right?"

Danielle mutely nodded her head as she was preoccupied with chewing her food.

Piping in the conversation, Rex added, "Yeah, Rick Jennings and I worked together at Fairview Hospital for nearly fifteen years. He's also a good friend of mine from medical school. Remember Bree, a year or so ago we had him and his wife over for dinner?" Rex, obviously in a better mood than she'd left him in earlier in the morning, stabbed his fruit salad with his fork and shoved it in his mouth.

Fixing a cold glare on her husband from across the table, she responded curtly, "Yes, I remember." She then turned to her daughter and interrogated further, "She's the sister of Kevin and Eric, one who was cited by the cops for underage drinking back in March and the other who was charged with possession of an illegal substance just last month, am I correct?"

Her daughter blushed profusely. Bree's motherly instincts could smell lies of desperation coming on. Putting her fork down on her plate, she said sternly, "I'm sorry, Danielle, but it's out of the question. If you would like to invite Alexis and some friends over here for a sleepover next weekend, that would be fine, but I'm not going to allow you to attend a party that would jeopardize your safety."

"What do you mean 'jeopardize my safety'? Kevin and Eric probably won't even be there at all. It's Alexis's party. It's just a few people getting together and having fun. Don't you trust me?" Danielle exclaimed angrily.

Bree sighed, "It's not you I don't trust, Danielle, it's those two boys. I don't want you around them."

"I can't believe this!" Danielle screeched wildly. "Mom, it's a stupid party! There's not going to be any drinking or anything like that. What's wrong with hanging out with a few of my friends while we eat pizza and watch a movie?"

"Absolutely nothing, as long as it's not at the Jennings' house." Danielle was trying her mother's patience, but Bree endeavored to keep her cool. Mother and daughter had began building a closer relationship following the Matthew Applewhite incident, but the sturdy foundation Bree had yearned for had yet to come. While the relations between her and her daughter were still shaky at best, she was grateful for any kind of interaction with Danielle. At the moment, though, while she was afraid of destroying any hope for a more solid relationship, she was more concerned for Danielle's safety.

"Why are you freaking out over a party? You've never cared before where I've gone. What have you got against the Jennings?"

"Danielle, I've already given you my answer on the matter and now I consider the matter closed. For your information, the Jennings boys have been accused of more than underage drinking and possession of drugs. I don't want you around them, and that's that. I refuse to discuss this any further." Annoyed and tired of the subject, Bree bit into a blueberry muffin.

"Well, you might've given your answer, but Dad already gave me his," Danielle smirked as she sat back in her chair and crossed her arms defiantly. "And he said 'yes'."

Bree's body went rigid. Her eyes flickered irritatingly towards her husband who'd swallowed his juice a little more nervously upon hearing himself dragged into the argument between his wife and their daughter. Through gritted teeth, she snarled, "Rex, what did you tell Danielle?"

Feeling the heat of Bree's pointed glare, Rex tried to explain his position, "Now, Honey, all the years that we've known the Jennings, we've never known the boys to do anything... uh... inappropriate. I didn't think her going over to their house for a few hours would do any harm, so when she came and asked me if she could go, I told her 'yes'."

"Without talking to me!" Bree exploded.

"I didn't think it was a big deal, Bree! It's just a party!" argued Rex in his own defense.

Feeling herself backed into a corner, Bree sharply turned to her daughter. Looking her square in the face, she stated as-a-matter-of-factly, "Danielle, Eric Jennings was expelled from college last year because he tried to take advantage of a girl at a frat party. When she went to the police, two other girls came forward with similar stories. For that reason, among others, I don't want you near him or his brother."

Danielle smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. It was laced with bitterness and acrimony. "You're lying. I've never heard that story. Alexis would've told me. You just don't want me to go, for whatever reason, so now you're making up stories. But Dad already said 'yes', so I'm going."

Rex sat his fork down loudly on his plate; so loud, in fact, that both Bree and Danielle jumped.

In a cross voice, he scolded his daughter, "Young lady, you will not call your mother a liar! If your mother doesn't want you to go, then she has good reason for not letting you. And before you say it, no 'ruining your life forever' does not qualify as a good reason." With that, Rex went back to eating his breakfast, leaving a stunned Bree to stare motionlessly at him. The disbelief showed on her face.

In a last-ditch effort, Danielle begged her mother, "Mom, please? "

"No, Danielle," she answered succinctly without even glancing up from her food.

"But Mom, all the cool people are going!"

Looking at her daughter, she delivered her reply in a crisp voice, "Not all of them, Sweetie. You're not going."

Shooting up from the table, Danielle ran from the dining room and yelled behind her, "God, I wish I'd never been born! You're ruining my life! How can I ever show my face again!"

Bree and Rex heard the heavy thud of their enraged daughter's footsteps ascend the stairs, punctuated by a door-slamming that shook all the walls of the house. They both observed the light fixture which hung from the ceiling above the table as it rattled momentarily due to Danielle's adolescent tirade.

"Do you think she's mad at us?" Rex facetiously questioned his wife, grinning.

However, Bree didn't return the grin. Instead, she donned an expression of seriousness cloaked in warmth and said simply, "Thank you."

"For what?" Rex asked in all sincerity, the corners of his mouth falling slightly.

"For backing me up."

Inhaling deeply, he gazed thoughtfully at the drinking glass in his hand, but not really seeing it. "I don't want us fighting anymore, Bree. Even if we can't resolve the differences between us, I don't want to fight over them. And I don't want to involve the kids in our problems. Even if we can't be a good married couple, let's at least be good parents."

"I agree, Rex. I totally agree." Lightening up the mood that had clouded their breakfast, Bree questioned her husband with a wry smile, "So, does this mean you're going to apologize for trying to take advantage of me this morning? In my own room, might I add."

"Bree," began Rex, sitting down his empty glass, "if I were going to try and take advantage of you, it wouldn't be in your own room. You have two guns under the bed and two more in the closet. I might be many things, but I'm not stupid."

It was then that the morning heard its first laugh.

Friday morning passed peacefully into the afternoon at the Van De Kamp house. Danielle had scarcely been seen since storming up to her room earlier in the day. The few times it was necessary for her to emerge from her bedroom, she'd been sulky and bad-tempered, refusing to speak to her parents or help with any household chores. Bree had spent the afternoon ironing and rearranging the contents of the kitchen cupboards. For some reason, she felt extra energized and thus decided to not only do Friday's housekeeping duties, but Saturday's as well so that she could have a free day that weekend to do anything she fancied. So, once the vacuuming and the dusting had been done, the only thing left to do was the grocery shopping.

Just as Bree finished making her shopping list, Danielle came into the kitchen to get a can of soda from the refrigerator. Thinking that her daughter might want to accompany her, she asked, "Danielle, I'm going to the grocery store, would you like to come along?"

Danielle closed the refrigerator door and turned around to glower at her mother in a churlish manner. "Are you saying that you actually trust me to go with you and not wander off and get myself kidnaped or, gasp, murdered?"

Bree threw her daughter a look of exasperation and began to walk away. As she passed Danielle, she said grumpily, "Never mind, Danielle, I'll go by myself."

But before she could leave the kitchen, Danielle let out an audible breath of air and rescinded her sarcastic remark, "Mom, wait! I'll go. I need a few things anyway."

Facing Danielle, Bree appeared skeptical and told her, "I know you're mad at me because I won't let you go to the party tomorrow night, but I'm really not in the mood to take your backtalk. I wish you could understand that I only have your best interests at heart."

For several seconds, Danielle didn't respond. Bree knew her daughter well enough to know when she wanted to say something so badly but was holding her tongue. Under pressure from the oppressive scrutiny of her mother, she averted her eyes elsewhere and said stiffly, "Let's just go, ok?"

"Is there something you want to say to me, Danielle?"

Still looking at anything but her mother's curious face, she replied brusquely, "No. Can we just go?"

Relenting, Bree softly suggested that she go get her things and then they meet out in the car. While Danielle went upstairs to grab her purse and cell phone from her room, Bree waited in the car. Danielle's behavior puzzled her. She could swear that she saw something in Danielle's eyes that said more than her mouth. It was unlike her to refrain from saying exactly what she was thinking, especially where her mother was concerned. Was Danielle planning to be nice now just to butter her up thinking she was going to get her mother to let her attend the party at the Jennings'? Bree didn't think that was it, but she failed to come up with any other explanations.

The trip to the grocery store was silent. An air of awkwardness permeated the car. Thoughts left unsaid radiated strongly from Danielle and it worried Bree as well as made her uneasy. It would've made sense to simply ask her daughter what was bothering her, however Danielle had already made it all too clear that she was in no mood to talk. She was heartily relieved when they arrived in the parking lot of the store.

As they walked through the doors of the supermarket, Bree grabbed a cart and Danielle walked a little ahead, trying to avoid her mother at all costs. Aggravated, Bree ignored her and dug in her purse for the grocery list she'd made that morning. Systematically, the two ladies went aisle by aisle, quietly filling up the cart with goods. The only sound that came from either lady was Bree scratching an item off her list with a pen. Upon entering the fourth aisle, Bree encountered a couple of familiar faces–Susan and Julie Mayer.

"Hey, Danielle!" Julie called brightly. She returned a can to its place on the shelf and walked toward them. The two girls broke away from their parents and began chatting in hushed voices amongst themselves. Bree panicked, remembering the last time she'd seen Susan. It was at the dinner party she had hosted over a week ago. She hoped beyond all hope that Susan wouldn't mention her drunken episode. Embarrassment was still alive in that fuzzy memory.

Susan came up to Bree and laid a hand lightly on her arm and asked, "How are you holding up, Bree?"

Getting a little more agitated, Bree answered, "I'm just fine, Susan. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I know you must be going through a lot right now. I mean, you just found out that Rex was alive and plus the Matthew Applewhite thing. We're all worried about you, Lynette, Gaby and me. We haven't seen much of you lately and you missed poker last week! I know that you've been under a lot of stress recently and I just want you to know that I'm here for you, any time, day or night, if you need to talk." Susan smiled sympathetically.

Bree, however, was immune from sympathy and even somewhat hostile to it. It wasn't in her constitution to accept people feeling sorry for her. With a cold shoulder, she politely dismissed Susan's offer.

"Thank you, Susan, but I'm really quite fine." To illustrate just how fine she was, she managed to force a smile on her face.

Susan's smile faltered a little at the blatant rejection of her heartfelt sincerity. "Oh, well, uh, good. That's good."

Saved from any more uncomfortable rambling, Susan's daughter interrupted their brief exchange. "Hey, Mom, can Danielle and I walk around until you finish shopping?"

Susan glanced at Bree. "I don't have a problem with it. Bree?"

"Neither do I. Danielle, I'll call your cell phone when I'm finished."

Danielle's silent spell toward her mother ended when she remarked dryly, "You mean you're going to let me out of your sight? Aren't you afraid I'll get lost without you holding my hand?"

"Danielle!" Bree cried.

Rolling her eyes, Julie grabbed her friend's hand and dragged her away before anything more could be said. Abashed, Bree couldn't bear to meet Susan's eyes.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that, Susan. She's upset that I've banned her from going to her friend's party tomorrow night. She's been simply insolent all day."

"Hey, it's ok," Susan comforted her friend, gently rubbing her back. "It's hard raising teenagers. One day they love you and the next day they can't stand the sight of you! Believe me, I've been there."

"I don't think it's just the party, though," Bree confessed. "That's a part of it, but I have a feeling that there's more going on with Danielle than what she's telling me. Everyday I live in fear of her running away again. There are times I wake up in the middle of the night just to make sure she's still in her bed."

"Oh, Honey, I'm so sorry! If you ever need anything, Bree, I mean it, all you have to do is call me. Even if you just need to blow off some steam. I'm a good listener."

"Thank you. That means a lot to me," Bree smiled weakly and not very reassuringly.

Susan started to walk away, then abruptly spun back around to inquire of Bree, "By the way, is the party you're talking about taking place at the Jennings' house?"

"Yeah, it's being thrown by Danielle's friend, Alexis. Why?"

"Well, Julie got invited, but after hearing all those stories about the Jennings boys, I refused to let her go. At first, I felt horrible about it, but now that I know Danielle's not going, either, I think I made the right decision."

"How did Julie take it?"

"Oh, she was fine. She just said 'ok' and went up to her room," Susan shrugged nonchalantly.

"Count your blessings. Danielle nearly destroyed the house with her tantrum. She stormed up the stairs to her room and slammed her door. She's spent the better part of the day pouting over it.

"Well, I hate to rush, but I better get going. I need to get my shopping done and get home and make dinner."

"All right. I'll see you around. Don't be a stranger! Drop by sometime. We live on the same street, remember?" Susan grinned.

Susan went back to her own cart and Bree pushed her's to the next aisle. While still vexed by Danielle's unbecoming attitude and now displeased by the lacking quality in the apples and bananas on display in the fruit aisle, a very familiar melody reached her ears from the store's overhead intercom.

" _...Lay, lady, lay, lay across my big brass bed,  
Stay, lady, stay, stay with your man awhile,  
Until the break of day, let me see you make him smile,  
His clothes are dirty but his hands are clean,  
And you're the best thing that he's ever seen..." _

Her escape from present troubles had come in the form of a song. All unsavory and disturbing thoughts exited from her mind and the tension her body held was instantly released as she stopped what she was doing to temporarily bask in the familiarity of the rhythm. She let the powerful simplicity of the music and words cocoon her and transport her to another place and time, away from her bothersome reality. It was unusual to have heard it twice in the same day–that morning while still in bed and now--as she hadn't even heard it twice in the last decade! In all those years she'd forgotten just how much she loved the song: her and Rex's song.

Mentally leaving the fruit aisle of the supermarket, her memories carried her into the past where she saw a younger version of her family in the first house she and Rex had bought shortly after they married. In the living room, Rex's vintage record player was playing the old Dylan record that he gave her on their first wedding anniversary. They were dancing close to each other; well, as close as any two people could get as they cradled babies in their arms. A one-year old Andrew slept soundly in his mother's arms as his three-month old sister slumbered just as contentedly in her father's strong arms while each parent swayed slowly and softly to the music. Bree recalled that Danielle had been stricken with a nasty bout of colic and Andrew had been getting over a cold and both children were fussy and crying. As a last resort, she had recommended that they turn on some soothing music and try to rock them asleep. It worked as both children had almost instantly fallen to sleep in their respective parents' arms. Proud that her plan had succeeded, Bree cast an affectionate look upon her husband who then closed the distance between them to lay a tender kiss on her upturned lips. As they continued to dance quietly in a world inhabited by only the four of them, an exhausted Bree lovingly lay her forehead against Rex's and closed her eyes, relishing the closeness of the moment–a moment now lost in time.

"Pick up on aisle seven, pick up on aisle seven! Thank you!"

A woman's shrill voice boomed over the intercom, jerking Bree out of her daydream. Glancing around, she was back in the fruit aisle of the store. A warm feeling had spread over her body as a result of her venture into yesteryear. Vestiges of happiness remained with her, but it wasn't to last because she knew how the story ended. It ended with Rex and her estranged and two kids who hated her. Bitterly, she put the unappetizing fruit back where it belonged and continued shopping.

It wasn't but twenty minutes later that she'd almost finished with her shopping. The lonely memory which had surfaced in her mind unexpectedly had left Bree with a feeling of sadness for what could have been. Instead of endless marital bliss, her life had been ripped apart. Somewhere, something had gone terribly wrong. Bree had blamed Rex and in turn, Rex had found Bree to be the one at fault, but still satisfaction in assigning blame had alluded both parties. Unfortunately, an apology from either was no longer enough to remedy all the wrongs they'd committed against each other. However, saying good-bye and good riddance didn't seem to be the right solution, either. Contemplating of all this turned Bree's stomach into knots. She tried to resist mulling over these things but the thoughts raced through her head and refused to leave her alone. They reminded her of her weaknesses and reaffirmed her failure of being a good wife and mother, for failing her husband and her son and for letting her marriage crumble into little more than a mere legality. Bree's thoughts whirled around so rapidly in her mind that she felt that her surroundings were reeling about her. She wanted them to stop.

Hesitating slightly, Bree strolled into the last aisle of the store, casting nervous glances at both ends to make sure that no one saw her there. Quickly, she added three bottles of wine to her cart, covering them with her other groceries so that no one else could see them. She didn't have a problem, she told herself, she just didn't want anyone else thinking she did. It was no one else's business if she chose to have a couple of glasses of wine in her own house!

After checking out and loading the grocery bags into her car, she climbed into the driver's side with a wine bottle in hand. Opening it with the mini-corkscrew on her keychain, she drank greedily and messily straight from the bottle. The first taste of alcohol burned her mouth with hateful gratification and left a trail of fire down her throat. When she finished drowning out the ruminations of her perturbed mind, she took the bottle from her mouth and stuck the cork back in as far as she could get it, choosing to hid it under the seat. As time crept by, she gradually began feeling the numbness that she craved. One by one, each disturbing recollection was silenced and forced back into the dark recesses of Bree's mind. It would be an overstatement to say that Bree felt better. She despised herself, but couldn't figure out why. The depressing effect of the alcohol had begun to work on her mind, preventing her from further rational deep thinking. Leaning forward, she lay her head on the steering wheel and closed her eyes, suddenly tired.

It was only a few minutes later that her cell phone rang. Fumbling around her trouser pockets, she found it and punched a couple of buttons until she was able to answer it.

"Hello?" she said uncertainly.

"Mom, where are you? Susan and Julie left about twenty minutes ago and I've been trying to find you. I've called three times and you didn't answer." Danielle was yelling into the phone in irritation, but Bree only heard faint echoes in her ear. It took all she had just to register what her daughter was saying. Naturally, she hadn't heard her phone ringing before or anything else, for that matter. Lost in the fog of her own needs, she'd forgotten that the world still went on around her.

Struggling to sound sober, she was able to tell her daughter that she was in the parking lot waiting for her in the car. It didn't take Danielle but five minutes to join her mother. Grouchily, she got in the passenger's side and slammed the door. Bree started the car, but before she could drive off, she realized that her vision had blurred significantly. Through the thick wisps of nothingness that inconveniently flooded her head, she found her voice. Somehow, she was able to use it to ask Danielle if she'd like to drive home and answered all queries with "I have a headache" whether or not that was the question. She clumsily traded places with her daughter. Life seemed to be moving in slow-motion, her limbs had become laden. Her eyes were clouded with a fuzziness so severe that it was a relief to close them.

The trip from the store to the Van De Kamps' house on Wisteria Lane was a moderate one and it was about thirty minutes before Danielle pulled up the driveway. Shutting off the car, she turned to her mother and struggled to shake her awake.

"Mom? Mom? Mom?" She shook her shoulders and her arms several times before giving up to go inside and find her dad.

Bree jumped a bit at the surprising jolt from the shutting car door. Both eyes flew open immediately. Once she recognized where she was, she proceeded to untangle herself from the car. Steadying herself, she opened the back door on the passenger's side and made to take a couple of bags out. Though much to her chagrin, one of the bags she'd grabbed ripped apart, its contents spilling out into the floorboard of the car and onto the pavement. Picking up what she could, she placed the stray groceries in another bag. Seeing a can making its way down the small incline of the driveway, she hurried after it. She was so caught up in the chase it that she didn't see another car pull up to the curb in front of her house. She was also caught unaware when a handsome acquaintance got out of the car and called her name.

"Mrs. Van De Kamp!" he greeted cheerfully.

Her vision was still a smidgen blurry, but she could see enough to make out just who had come to visit.

"Orson? Hi, how have you been?" she returned, battling the flaccid muscles of her mouth to keep her voice from wavering.

"Fine, just fine. Look, do you have a minute?" Orson wore a hopeful expression on his face and when Bree nodded in the affirmative, it changed into a glad grin. "I apologize for making myself scarce the last couple of weeks, but I heard about your husband and all and I just thought that you needed time to sort things out. I didn't want to intrude."

Bree smiled, trying to hide the fact that she was swaying on her feet. "That is so considerate of you, Orson, thank you. And please, call me Bree. It has been an interesting couple of weeks in which we've all tried to become acclimated with having my husb–, uh, Rex, back home. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Well, I hope this isn't too forward of me and I hope you won't be offended if I ask you out for a cup of coffee sometime."

"Of course I wouldn't be offended!" Bree proclaimed a little more loudly than she'd meant to. Orson, however, didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. "I think that's a great idea. How about tomorrow afternoon?"

"Excellent, excellent. How does two-ish sound?"

"That sounds agreeable. I look forward to it! If you'd like, you can just pick me up here. It doesn't make sense to drive two cars."

"I'll do that, then." If it were possible, Orson's grin widened, but it didn't look silly or goofy. He was able to maintain a classically handsome look no matter what kind of face he was making. Bree certainly found him pleasant to behold. "I'm sorry to be so brief, but I'm afraid I must get going; I've got to get to the hospital to visit my mother. I thought I'd stop by to see you on the way there. I'm glad I did because I definitely can't wait for that cup of coffee tomorrow!"

"Why, thank you, Orson! I'll see you tomorrow then!"

Back in his car, Orson waved and drove off, leaving Bree on the side of the road. She would've stood there all day, or at least until she passed out from the affects of the alcohol, if Rex hadn't come out to find her.

He walked up from behind and said, "Danielle told me that you were unresponsive but I see she was wrong. I thought you might've... Well... Never mind, I see you're ok.

"Who was that?"

Facing away from him, she replied simply, "A friend."

"Oh, really," Rex regarded her with a suspicious eye. Furtively, he inquired further. "What's _her_ name?"

" _Her_ name is Dr. Orson Hodge. He's a dentist."

Rex scowled. "Well, what did he want with you?"

"A cup of coffee and an hour or so of my time." Without even catching a glimpse of Rex's reaction, she traipsed back to the car and began gathering a couple of bags. Going to the other side, Rex opened the door and huffily snatched what he could.

"So, is this, like, a date?"

"What would you call it, Rex?" snapped Bree shortly.

He didn't answer her, rather he hastily took the groceries inside. She followed along behind him, but not before hiding the other two bottles of wine under the seat. Once in the kitchen, she helped Rex put away the foodstuff. In order to reach the highest shelves of the cabinets, she retrieved a step-stool from the utility closet and sat it up where she was working. Even though she was keenly aware that alcohol messed with her sense of balance, she threw caution to the wind and proceeded to climb up to the top step. Swaggering from left to right a couple of times, she grasped the cabinet door tightly in an attempt to staid herself. For the longest while, she concentrated on stocking the cans in the cupboard without any problems. However, when Bree stood on her tiptoes to reach the backmost part of the shelf, the step-stool slipped out from under her feet, causing her to stumble and fall backward. In a split second, Rex jumped over and thrust his arms out, catching his wife securely before she could fall to the hard floor. A little disoriented, she blinked several times and inhaled deeply trying to come to terms with what just happened.

"Are you ok, Honey?" he probed concernedly, letting slip a term of endearment he'd used since before they were married. His breathing was anxious and though he held onto his wife firmly, his arms and hands trembled slightly from the fear that had struck him without a moment's warning. Thankfully, his heart had the strength to withstand the sudden shock of seeing Bree plummeting toward the floor.

Rex's use of the archaic endearment didn't go unnoticed by a stupefied Bree's ears, but she pretended not to hear it. "Yes, I'm ok. Thank you." Upon calming down, she wriggled free from her husband's death grip and straightened her blouse and pants, smoothing out any wrinkles.

Rex, anyhow, smelled a recognizable stench on his wife's breath. His anger boiling over, he seized Bree's wrist and questioned her coolly, "Bree, have you been drinking again?"

Smoothly, she countered, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bree, don't play coy with me, I smell the alcohol on your breath."

"Do you now? Well, Rex, go to any bar and smell the breath of any one of its customers and I'm sure you'll smell alcohol." She tried to wrench her wrist out of Rex's hand, but was unsuccessful, therefore infuriating her.

"They didn't almost kill themselves by falling off a step-stool! What if I hadn't been here? What if Danielle hadn't been with you today to drive home? You could've killed or injured yourself or somebody else!"

"I suppose you never thought about that when you actually weren't here. Did you care about what would happen to me when you were hiding out at your mother's? Did Danielle care about what would happen to me when she was on the run? Let go of me!" Bree threw a withering visage at the man standing opposite her.

Refusing to get sidetracked, Rex dodged the flames hurled at him and desperately tried to make Bree realize she had a drinking problem. "Can't you see that you're hurting yourself, Honey? You just fell off a step-stool. Two weeks ago, you tripped and fell at your own dinner party in front of the whole neighborhood. Luckily, I was there and able to catch you then, too."

Bree didn't want to hear anymore. She knew in her heart that she didn't have a drinking problem. There was nothing wrong with having a few drinks once in a while. Everybody else drank, too, didn't they? When all the girls got together at poker on Tuesdays, they had a glass of wine or champagne. No one accused them of having a problem!

"Rex, let me go. Now," she whispered darkly, trying to suppress the vulnerability that was rising to the surface.

"Not until you admit that you're an alcoholic, Bree. You have a daughter that depends on you, that loves you. Don't hurt her this way. We can work through this!"

With her free hand, Bree slapped Rex using all her might. In his pain, he released her and she stepped away from him. Seething, she hissed, accenting each and every word, "There is no _we_ ."

Mutely and expressionlessly, without casting another look in his wife's direction, Rex stalked out of the kitchen, straight through the living room and through the front door, stopping only to get his car keys. Bree brushed herself off, rearranged her crumpled sleeves and went back to unloading the grocery bags. After all, she reminded herself, she still had dinner to make and more laundry to do. Also, she had to choose something to wear for tomorrow's date with Orson. There simply wasn't time to think about Rex's abrupt departure. It wasn't the first time he'd walked out on her, however she was grateful this time his exit had been less dramatic and she wouldn't have to inform his mother. Perhaps that's where he was going right now. Had he finally grown tired of living with her with all the constant fighting? Would he divorce her? Would he move out of the house and into his own place? Would he leave her for another woman? Would he find happiness somewhere else?

All those thoughts and more entered her mind, despite the fact that she swore she didn't care what happened to Rex. Although she'd persuaded herself that she would be perfectly fine without him, a minute part of her worried that he'd left her forever, that she was going to be alone again. The uneasiness increased at dinner as Rex failed to show up. Danielle was absent, as well, still rebelling against her mother's decision concerning the Jennings party. No matter how much prodding and imploring Bree did from behind a locked bedroom door, her daughter wouldn't budge. Resigned to the fact that she would be spending the evening alone, she went back downstairs and attempted to eat something. It was useless. After packing the uneaten food away in the appropriate Tupperware compartments and washing the dishes, she turned in early.

Falling asleep almost instantly after her head hit the pillow, she slept fitfully for a few hours until a little after midnight she was awakened by the front door opening and closing. She knew it was Rex. Consciously, she slowed and hushed her breathing as she strained to listen to his footsteps, light as they were, as he moved from one part of the house to another. Her ears heard him open and close the refrigerator, toss his clothes on a chair and lay down on the couch. The heart in her chest beat nervously, waiting for his next move, fearful that she would once again hear the front door open and close. But she heard nothing more. Half an hour passed and still there was nothing. Taking his silence to mean that he was staying, she shut her eyes in immense relief. The clutches of dread disintegrated bit by bit with each passing moment. A few minutes later, she drifted into a restful slumber, but not before a single tear of joy quietly slipped from the corner of her eye.

Saturday morning began much like Friday morning, the only difference being that Rex was no where to be found. Bree resumed worrying over him until she found a note on the coffee table in the living room written in his messy doctor's scribble:

_Gone golfing with friends. Will return late. Rex._

Bree read the note twice. She had the feeling that he was purposely avoiding her and she couldn't say she blamed him. In her mind, she kept replaying the scene in the kitchen where she slapped him in the heat of the moment. It was eerily similar to the time in which she smacked her son after he'd confronted her about her drinking. Guilt plagued her conscience. Her behavior the night before had edged on abuse. Rex had only been worried about her as she'd worried about him many times in the past. As Bree thought about yesterday evening, she couldn't comprehend exactly why she'd acted so defensively. If she didn't have a problem with alcohol, then why did she get so angry? Maybe it was just a small problem, but certainly not like those other people who became uncontrollably drunk and proceeded to wreak havoc on society at large. She wasn't even a drunk, she just liked alcohol a little more than what she should. In the future, she would remember to temper the number of drinks she had during the course of a day and prove to Rex that she had the alcohol under control.

With Rex gone and the day's chores completed yesterday, Bree became bored rather quickly. Three or four times Bree had knocked on Danielle's still locked bedroom door to try and coax her into doing something, but she spurned her mother's offers and Bree thought it was pointless to keep trying. Fed up with everyone and everything, she went to her purse, took out Orson's business card and dialed the number that was printed on it. Upon reaching someone that was more than willing to talk to her, she found her mood lifting. It soared, however, when he happily obliged to meet her earlier than two o'clock.

A scant fifteen minutes later, his car pulled into the drive way and they were off to begin their day together. The sun was bright in the cloudless sky and Bree felt that nothing could go wrong. Any and all thoughts of Rex, Danielle or Andrew were temporarily shut out of her mind and denied access. Orson was a prolific talker as was she. He was cultured, intelligent and a gentleman through and through. With him, she found herself laughing harder than she had in a long time. She noticed that he hadn't attempted to pry into her personal life and refrained from asking questions about her family. The consideration that he had for her was much appreciated as she wasn't comfortable yet with sharing such intimate information with someone she barely knew.

They continued to talk over several cups of coffee and a shared piece of cheesecake. When people began staring at them because Orson had Bree in hysterics, he paid the bill and they left for the mall. Neither had any desire to buy anything, but they enjoyed walking around, browsing the stores and getting acquainted with one another. After talking for hours on end, they learned they had many things in common such as a propensity for cleaning, a fondness of gardening, a love of antiques and a secret like of Barry Manilow.

While they discussed their similarities, they found themselves forced to talk about their differences, too, as Bree recognized the song playing in the background which was hardly perceptible due to the usual noises found within a mall. The 'no entry' sign she'd mentally posted in her mind that kept her from thinking of Rex had been tossed aside. Silently, she damned Bob Dylan and his song.

"_...Stay, lady, stay, stay with your man awhile,  
Why wait any longer for the world to begin,  
You can have your cake and eat it too,  
Why wait any longer for the one you love,  
When he's standing in front of you..."_

Bree had grown quiet and it concerned Orson. "Are you ok?" he thoughtfully asked her.

"Hmmm? Oh, yeah," she responded. Physically, she was strolling along at Orson's side, but mentally she was some place far away, lost in yet another memory which had been magically conjured up by the melody.

"You stopped talking all a sudden and I thought I said something wrong."

"What? Oh heavens, no!" she laughed it off. "It's just, um, this song, well, let's just say I'm very partial to it. It's very meaningful to me."

Soundlessly, Orson listened to the lyrics for a few bars then said, "Is that Bob Dylan?"

"Yes."

"Can't say I'm too fond of his music. I think he sounds like Kermit the Frog with laryngitis when he sings, but that's just me. What makes it special to you, if I may ask?"

Not knowing that he'd just entered territory of a personal nature that Bree feared to tread with him, he wouldn't understand why she delayed answering him. She raced to come up with an explanation. The best she could do was, "It reminds me of my college years, that's all."

Once their jaunt to the mall was finished, Orson took Bree home. Though she was glad the end of their date had come due to the ruinous affect of the Dylan song had on her humor, overall she'd had a wonderful day, and told Orson so. In contrast to an earlier part of the day, Bree all at once felt bashful. She blushed a rosy shade of scarlet when he opened the car door for her and then accompanied her to the door of her house.

Forcing herself to look in his eyes when she spoke, she remarked shyly, "You didn't have to do that."

Orson couldn't believe his ears because in front of him stood no ordinary woman, but a lady full of elegance and dignity worthy of more than casual gentlemanly gestures. Earnestly, he refuted, "Yes I did. All ladies deserve to be treated as such, and Mrs. Van De Kamp, you are the classiest lady I've ever met. Anyone who doesn't think he needs to open car doors for you or walk you to your door doesn't deserve someone like you."

Tears threatened to overtake her eyes and the heat of a shattered modesty burned in her cheeks. Smiling, she thanked him. Before leaving, Orson had asked if he could call her and without a moment's hesitation, she'd said yes. From her door, Bree forlornly watched him drive away knowing that she would be passing the rest of the day alone.

As she made her way into the house, she wondered when it had stopped feeling like a home and more like a prison. The house had become a skeleton, stripped of the happiness and laughter and love that used to occupy every nook and cranny, lighting up the atmosphere with warmth. Bree observed her surroundings as if they'd taken on a cold, foreign quality to which she was unaccustomed. Feeling a slight chill move through the stale air, she wrapped her arms around herself. There was a time in which the house had burst with life, but now its walls echoed with the loneliness that isolated her husband, her children and herself from one another. Instead of bliss and affection, its veins of poison spilled enmity and chaos into all hearts that resided under its roof. The decaying odor of lost hope wafted through the air and sorrow bled copiously from every crevice, infecting the inhabitants with its melancholy. Ghosts of Bree's memories haunted her, feeding off the unfulfilled dreams that dwelled dormantly in her broken heart. Within the confines of the house, she continuously relived her mistakes, her failures and her nightmares. It was a vacuum of tragic sadness of which there was no escape, no remedy.

The remainder of the afternoon passed sluggishly into night. Bree couldn't recall when she'd watched so much television just to pass the time. There were no chores to do and no one to cook for. She was still dodging the company of her neighbors and she didn't feel like going out alone on a Saturday night. Out of options, she yet again retired relatively early to bed. Although she felt anything but tired, she nonetheless fell into a deep, dreamless sleep which was cut short by the phone ringing a little after midnight.

At first, Bree ignored the ringing, thinking that perhaps whoever was calling would give up. After the sixth ring, it was apparent that the person on the other end wasn't going to give up until he or she talked to someone in the Van De Kamp household. Vexed, Bree blindly reached over to the nightstand and felt around for the phone. It rang a couple of more times before Bree could answer it.

"Hello?" she said, her voice coated with drowsy remnants of a sleep induced stupor.

"Hi, Bree?" The person on the other end of the line sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn't be sure who it was. Her brain was a pile of mush and coherent thought was seemingly impossible for Bree at the present moment. Luckily, she wasn't kept in the dark too long in regards to the person's identity because as soon as Bree mumbled 'yes' into the receiver, the other person continued. "This is Susan. I'm sorry to be calling so late, but I'm trying to reach Julie. I've been trying to call her cell, but she's turned it off and it's important that I tell her that Karl will be picking her up from your house tomorrow morning. Could I talk to her please?"

Dumbfounded, she didn't understand why her friend was calling to talk to Julie. Fleetingly, Bree entertained the notion that maybe she wasn't the only one on Wisteria Lane hitting the bottle. "Susan, why are you calling me to talk to Julie?"

"Um, well, Julie told me that you said that Danielle was allowed to have company over tonight and so she and Danielle made plans to have a sleepover. I'm, uh, I'm assuming that she's there?" finished Susan uncertainly.

Bree was about as unsure as Susan. Off the top of her head, she didn't remember Danielle asking if it was ok to have a friend over. Danielle hadn't talked to her at all since yesterday, however she supposed it was possible that Julie had been invited over without attaining permission. It wasn't the worst thing her daughter had done, but it put Bree in an uncomfortable position of not knowing exactly what two teenage girls were up to on a Saturday night whilst in her charge. If she admitted that she knew nothing of the situation, it would arouse suspicion that she was drinking again and therefore left her daughter and Julie to run amok unsupervised, reminiscent of the incident with Lynette's children.

Smoothly, Bree responded, "Danielle didn't tell me that Julie was spending the night, but I did go to bed rather early in the evening, so maybe she didn't want to wake me."

"Oh," Susan remarked blankly. "That's odd. Danielle was over here today and said that you didn't mind whatsoever if Julie spent the night."

"Danielle hasn't talked to me since yesterday," Bree admitted. "I tried to get her to come out of her room yesterday and today and she refused. I wouldn't have minded if Julie stayed over here tonight, but neither one of them approached me about it."

"Strange. Well, when I talk to Julie, I'll ask her to come home immediately."

"No! Don't be silly! Julie's a wonderful kid and a good influence on Danielle. I don't mind if she stays. Maybe it'll bring Danielle out of her surliness. If you don't mind holding on a minute, I'll go get her."

"No problem," came the reply.

Getting out of bed, Bree put on her bathrobe over her nightgown and with the cordless phone in hand, went to knock on her daughter's door. She waited patiently, but she didn't receive an answer. Knocking again, she pressed her ear to the door to see if she could hear anything from inside. Nothing. Curiously, she turned the doorknob and entered the bedroom. Danielle's room was an absolute mess; clothes were strewn everywhere, the closet door was wide open and make-up littered her vanity. Neither girl occupied the room and all at once, Bree's motherly instincts kicked in. She knew where her daughter and her friend were.

"Susan, meet me over here in ten minutes," she snapped curtly, not allowing Susan the courtesy to react or ask questions before hanging up.

More awake than she had been ten minutes ago, Bree dressed and readied herself for the messy confrontation that would take place within the next hour. She was ready for the showdown between mother and daughter and prepared to drag Danielle kicking and screaming from the Jennings' house. Through with trying to gain her daughter's confidence and respect, she cared less whether Danielle liked her or not. If it came down between Bree being a friend or a mother to her youngest child, being a mother came first. Though she didn't relish the thought of being the object of Danielle's hate, she loathed any prospect of harm coming to her daughter as a result of her own fear of being hated. Someday, Danielle would see that Bree only had her best interests at heart. Maybe she would understand that her mother did love and care about her. However, right now, Bree wasn't concerned if Danielle comprehended her mother's actions or not because first and foremost, Danielle was going to obey her, something Andrew had never learned.

Having chosen a dark red sweater and tailored black trousers to wear accentuated with spiky black stilettos made Bree's lithe and slender body appear sharp and aquiline, almost cutting. Her usual soft shades of pink and yellow and blue would be inappropriate with her intention of conveying a no nonsense demeanor. Tonight, she was going to get her way and no one would dare try to stop her. No more would she have to wonder where her daughter was or who she was with or what she was doing. She didn't have a plan, rather she would rely on her wits to get her through. If Danielle had an inkling as to what was coming to her, she would've ran home and sneaked back into her bed and pretended to be asleep.

It didn't take Susan long to run to Bree's house. Alarmed at Bree's sudden change of tone on the phone, she thought something was seriously wrong with one of the girls and threw on any old thing that was laying around. Dressed in a holey, old tank top and a pair of ratty pyjama pants, she ran as fast as she could to the Van De Kamp house. When Bree had cut their phone call short and told her to meet her, she didn't know what to think, exactly, but she was sure that it was none too good. She hadn't a clue as to what was going on, but once she saw Bree walking out of her front door as she came upon the house, she knew, as Bree knew, that the girls had stolen off to the party at Alexis Jennings's house.

As they drove, Bree said not a word as Susan babbled on about how much trouble Julie would be in when she found her. Bree knew approximately where the Jennings lived, but wasn't too sure of the precise house. Upon arriving on the street, however, there was no question as to which one it was. She was positive it was the one that had a multitude of cars lined up in front of it, drunken teens loitering its front lawn and music booming from inside. _Small party, indeed... Just a few friends..._ Bree snickered to herself, knowing better than to listen to Danielle. Parking the car across the street, she and Susan got out and stared down their target. Susan kept prattling about how sorry Julie was going to be when she got a hold of her, but Bree tuned it out. She readied herself as if she were a general preparing to lead troops into battle. Her nostrils flared, her pupils dilated and her chest heaved as she grasped tightly the purse strap that hung on her shoulder until her knuckles were white. Standing straight up with her shoulders squared, she appeared taller than her five feet ten inch height. Even Susan admitted silently to herself that Bree had morphed into a fierce presence and even she was intimidated by the woman standing beside her. The ever-cheerful, joyous housewife had vanished, leaving behind the steely wraith of a mother scorned. Realizing that Bree had ceased to listen to her, Susan shut her mouth. It wasn't that she was frightened for herself, but she pitied anyone who crossed Bree's path for they would be sure to suffer the consequences. Susan wondered if Danielle would have any friends left once the night was over.

Intensely studying the scandalous scene that engulfed the house in front of her, she tread slowly and menacingly across the road towards her target. The 'click, click' of her heels on the pavement was a battle cry that was unfortunately oblivious to the inebriated partygoers that were playing their drunken games in the Jennings' flower beds. No slouch was found in Bree's determined stance and no mercy freckled the Hell's fire that had been kindled in her eyes. Susan had faded into the background. Once Bree had crossed the street, she marched up the sidewalk and into the front door, undeterred by the shenanigans surrounding her and unaware of the other mother that labored to keep up with her accelerated pace.

If she thought the outside of the house was an unspeakable sight to behold, the inside of the house was absolutely maddening. Beer bottles lay on every surface imaginable, trash was all over the floor, people invaded every inch of space, food was thrown on the walls, lamp shades were crooked as were the wall hangings, curtains were torn down... Loud music blasted from the entertainment center, yet it didn't totally drown out the rowdiness of the intoxicated guests. Cacophonous cackling, screaming and loud talking formed a melange of aural toxicity that savagely attacked Bree's sense of hearing. Fed up with the raucous, she tapped a young man on his shoulder to inquire of him the whereabouts of her daughter, but it was no use. The besotted idiot didn't even know his own name let alone that of her daughter. Attempting to ask random people didn't work because they either couldn't hear Bree's request or they couldn't hold their concentration long enough to hear the complete question. Like Bree, Susan didn't have any success getting information. Scanning the huge crowd of people, neither mother saw their respective daughter and nobody at the party was willing to help them. Finally, Bree decided that enough was enough.

Reaching into her purse, she withdrew her handgun, raised it directly above her head and fired. Everyone, including Susan, dropped to the floor. Though the gun was filled with mere blanks, no one else knew that and it worked to Bree's advantage. Suddenly, she had the attention of everyone in the room. She proceeded to turn off the stereo and in the process stepped on and over several people. Once the music had been killed, she addressed the mass of people who had just been scared into sobriety.

"Now that I have your attention, let's get a few things straight. For starters, there will be no drinking, no smoking," she paused momentarily to grab a lit cigarette out of the hand of a minor and dropped it in a beer bottle that sat atop the widescreen television next to the stereo, "no drugs, no sex... and no more eating in the living room." She promptly added that last condition upon surveying the food that disgustingly decorated the walls and expensive carpets. "Now, I want all of you to start cleaning up this house that you have managed to destroy in just a few hours. It's your mess and no one else is going to clean it up. No one will be allowed to leave until this house is spotless and I do mean spotless."

Bree moved through the maze of guests, most of whom were gaping at her unbelievably. They were too frightened to say anything because she was armed. Rational thought evaded their plastered and stoned minds thereby amplifying the amount of fear and paranoia tenfold. Peering at each other, no one made any sudden moves, thinking that if they were quiet, the mean, imposing lady that yelled at them and crashed their party would go away. It didn't work.

"What are you all waiting for?" Bree shrieked impatiently. "Get to work!"

Those who had been at Danielle's seventeenth birthday party recognized Mrs. Van De Kamp and remembered exactly how crazy she was and were wary of going against her, especially now that they'd seen that she carried a gun. Tardily, like prisoners on the side of the road, the teens began picking up the trash that was dispersed all over the place. Albeit slow, Bree was satisfied with the meager progress. However, Kevin Jennings, unhappy with the latest turn of events and disruption of his party, was determined he would put a stop to this singlehanded, hostile, mutinous takeover by some Martha Stewart wannabe. He would not be told what to do in his own house! Or so he thought.

Striding up to the red-haired lady, the closer he got to her, he found she eclipsed him in height. It didn't matter how tall she was, he wasn't going to let her bully him or his guests. Getting up in her face, he exclaimed furiously, "Who the hell do you think you are, Lady, crashing my party?"

Narrowing her eyes, she angrily grabbed his ear and pinched it hard between her thumb and forefinger, causing him to yelp in pain. "You listen to me, you impudent little ingrate, I know your parents. Not well enough, but I know who they are and where they are presently. I have twenty pictures on my cell phone of you and your underage sister drinking and smoking and of the utter destruction done to your house by your inconsiderate, slovenly, hormone-driven guests. All I have to do is press one button and all of them will be sent to your father's phone. So, if you'd like to be able to leave the house without having to hold your mother's hand for the next six months, I suggest that you not mess with me, because believe me, I will make your life a living hell!"

Wide-eyed and speechless, he said nothing more. "Well, Kevin, start cleaning up! This house isn't going to clean itself!" she ordered him ruthlessly once she released his ear. Shouting so that everyone heard her, she reminded them, "I _will _be inspecting your work, so I recommend you do everything correctly the first time. We will stay here all night if we need to!"

For a few minutes, she supervised the work being done around her, forcing the teens to conform to her brutal standards of perfection. Upon witnessing one girl casually swiping a stain on the wall and moving on after not being able to remove it completely, Bree dragged her by the arm back to the stain, gave her a bottle of cleaning solution and stood over her until no trace of it remained. She observed another girl trying to get a cheese stain out of the Persian rug in the living room and thus thought it helpful to share her tips on stain removal. Yes, she was rough and to some she was insane, but headway was being made. It was also an excellent exercise in preparing her to deal with the daughter who was sure to cause her mother more grief than Kevin Jennings ever thought about giving her.

After telling a flabbergasted Susan not to go easy on them and use negative reinforcement as a motivator if she had to, Bree went searching for Danielle. Unexpectedly, she found Susan's daughter mopping up some sort of spill in the kitchen. Not wanting to get in any more trouble than she perceived she was already in, Julie reported to Bree that she hadn't seen Danielle in at least a half hour, but the last time she spoke to her, she was headed upstairs with a friend.

Forging a path to the second floor was difficult as people were cleaning debris from the steps, but Bree prevailed. She prepped herself for the fighting that would ensue. Unfortunately, she'd probably have to be as demanding with her daughter as she was on the other guests. If Danielle didn't listen to anything else, she would listen to fear.

Strangely, unlike the first floor, there was virtually no one on the second floor which meant they were most likely hiding in any one of the numerous rooms in the large house. The first door Bree came to opened quite easily. As the door flew open, a guy and a girl frighteningly jumped out of a passionate embrace. The presence of an adult caused the girl to emit a small squeal of astonishment and embarrassment. Bree knew the young lady as the daughter of a rather pious woman in her book club.

"Ashley Smallwood!" Bree smiled surreptitiously, feigning surprise. Pointedly, she directed her conversation toward the girl. "How is your mother, Dear? We were suppose to get together next week and discuss a bake sale for the Women's Missionary Society at church, but I'll just give you a message to give to her. Tell her that muffins will be fine and that I'll bring a coconut cream pie. Now, make sure to give her the message because I'll be asking her about it at church tomorrow morning. Speaking of church, you better hurry on home because eight a.m. isn't that far away and a growing girl such as yourself needs all the sleep she can get. You need to be awake because tomorrow's sermon is sure to be interesting. It's about lust and fornication and all the awful things that happen to people that willingly take part in it."

Both teens scampered past a smirking Bree and she moved on down the hall. The next two rooms she breezed on by were empty, so she went to the other side of the hall where she found a locked door. A secured door hadn't hindered her when she needed to get into Andrew's room and one wasn't going to get in her way now. Not wasting any time with knocking, she stood back and violently kicked it open with one stiletto-clad foot. The door burst open and splinters of wood flew every which way. What she then saw made her blood curl. Danielle was laying on the bed, savagely kicking her feet and clawing at the guy who was pinning her down and mauling her with barbaric intent. Apparently, he didn't hear her petrified screams of "No!" or maybe he didn't want to hear them. No matter, he _would_ listen to Bree.

In two long strides, she reached the bed and tapped the young man on his shoulder. He raised up and turned around to see Bree standing over him. Forming her fist into a ball, with all her strength she punched him in his jaw and sent him tumbling onto his back in pain. Danielle bolted upright and her eyes met Bree's. She was terrified as the lady she saw resembled her mother but wasn't anything like the mother she knew. This woman was possessed of a rage with an intensity that went unrivaled to anything she'd ever witnessed before. A chilling darkness shadowed Bree's features as she gazed upon the form of Eric Jennings. Breaking eye contact with her daughter, she moved closer to the bed. The clicking of her heels sounded an ominous warning of what was to come. Shaking from the fright caused by Eric, Danielle was actually scared of what her mother would do to him. And to her once she finished with him.

All Bree's frustrations and irritations exploded within her and taking one strong hand, she grabbed Eric around his neck, forcing him to look at her. The fire in her eyes burned him and he tried to turn way, but she didn't let him. Baring her teeth like a cornered wolf, she brought his face to hers, near enough that when she talked he could feel the hatred that borne her words. Eric didn't know exactly what he'd gotten himself into, but for the first time ever, he was afraid for his life.

"I know all about you, you little bastard. I know all about the girls that you've forced yourself on and I know that your parents have spent a lot of money to get you out of those messes, but your parents aren't here right now. It's just you and me." She tightened the grip she had around his neck and he raised his eyebrows in panic as his breath waned. "It's apparent that you haven't learned your lesson, so I'm going to give you one to remember." Brandishing her gun, she cocked it with her free hand. His eyes traveled from her face to the gun and back, his breathing came in erratic wheezes. Bree felt him shaking but she wasted no pity on him. "I own four guns, am a member of the NRA and have 20/20 vision. If you ever, _ever_ come near my daughter again, you will pay and pay dearly. I don't want you talking to her, I don't want you contacting her, I don't even want you looking at her! If I catch you or learn from someone else that you have tried to get in touch with my daughter, you will suddenly find that you have a lot in common with a neutered tomcat. Do I make myself clear?"

Eric gulped and replied with a quivering, frail voice, "Y-y-yesss."

Bree wasn't satisfied and declined to relinquish her grip. "Among many other things, did your parents not teach you to respect your elders?"

"Y-y-yesss, m-m-ma'am," he stuttered.

Releasing him, he fell back onto the bed and coughed, grabbing his neck. She was finished with the eldest Jennings son and though she wasn't entirely convinced he would stop preying on the female population, she was more than sure that he wouldn't dare even think about Danielle.

Danielle.

She saw the same fear in her eyes as she saw in Eric's. While she hated that her daughter was frightened of her, she wanted her to witness the lengths her mother would go to protect her. Bree extended her hand to the younger Van De Kamp and said monotonously, "Come on, let's go downstairs. You have some cleaning up to do."

If Danielle was perplexed, she didn't voice it. Following her mother downstairs, she was met with the sight of seventy or so people cleaning and picking junk off the floor and moving the furniture back to their proper places. Apprehensively, she grabbed a bag from Susan and crouched down, joining the others who were collecting the garbage that had carelessly been thrown about. An hour and a half later, after a thorough inspection of the premises, the tired guests were finally allowed to leave. Gradually, the house emptied, leaving Eric, Kevin and Alexis to reflect on their catastrophic evening. Bree and Susan, along with their girls, left shortly thereafter, but not before Bree made the three Jennings kids watch as she sent their parents an email detailing the abhorrent conduct of their children and their guests plus twenty pictures that contained damning evidence.

The ride home was silent. Bree dropped off Susan and Julie at their house then pulled up in her own driveway. She shut the car off, but instead of getting out, she sat still, her hands in her lap as she filed through the flurry of thoughts that invaded her mind on the drive home. Danielle sat in the passenger's seat, but was careful not to move. If her mother remained in the car, she would, too, just because she was too fearful to do anything otherwise.

Five minutes later, as she continued to stare forward at nothing in particular, Danielle mustered up enough courage to ask her mother, "Aren't you even going to say 'I told you so'?"

Gently shaking her head, Bree whispered, "No."

A few more minutes of wordless contemplation crept by and Bree broke the silence when she said rather wistfully and tenderly, still staring straight ahead, "Danielle, I love you so much. I love you so much, that there's barely enough room in my heart for anything else. You are my baby girl and all your life I've tried to teach you right from wrong, I've tried to instill morals in you and I've always encouraged you to do your very best. Most of all, I've tried to protect you, from others and from yourself. Somehow, I've failed you or else you wouldn't constantly fight me for the control you think you should have to make decisions concerning your well-being. You're just seventeen years old, still a child. I know you're growing up; I'm painfully aware of that fact, but you're not an adult, yet, and even though you believe that you think as one, you still have much to learn. And I don't say that condescendingly, I say it with a mother's concern and over forty years' of experience.

"As long as you live under my roof, you will do as I say. I know I haven't been the best mother, but I'm trying, Danielle. I can't let you do anything you want just because I feel guilty. I've been so scared that you'll run away again. Sometimes, I check on you when you're asleep just to make sure you're still there. But I think that we've reached a point now that if you feel that you can no longer live with me, you can tell me and we'll find other living arrangements for you. If you want to run away, Danielle, I won't stand in your way. It would kill me to know that you'd prefer to live on the run than to live with me, but I can't go on worrying myself sick thinking that if I do or say the wrong thing, I'll find a note on your bed saying that you're gone.

"My darling, if you only knew how much I've cried over you and your brother, how much I've thought about the two of you, you wouldn't question my love for you and you'd understand why I make the decisions that I do. I can't protect you any longer by wrapping you up in a blanket and keeping you next to my side as I sleep as I did when you were a baby. There's a harsh, cruel world out there and even though I want to keep you safe from harm, I can't. The best I can do is guide you in the right direction and hope that someday you'll understand my reasoning."

With that, Bree stopped talking and wiped the tears that had trailed down her cheeks. Ashamed, Danielle gazed down at her hands. She was crying, too, but she didn't feel like she was worthy of shedding any tears. She'd always taken her mother's love for granted and up until now, she'd always thought of her mother as some stiff prude, incapable of being anything other than an out-of-date cookie-baking June Cleaver bent on pleasing everyone. Tonight, she was given a glimpse at the strong woman her mother really was, the mother she hadn't taken the time to get to know. Despite all the scrapes that she'd gotten into this evening and subsequently dragged her mother into, her mother had yet to raise her voice or even shout at her. That fact alone made her feel more guilty than anything else Bree could've done.

Bree cleared her throat, startling Danielle from her own thoughts. "It's late. Go on up to bed."

Danielle wanted to say something. Sorry didn't seem to be enough. Nothing seemed to be enough. She didn't know how it was possible for her mother to love such a troublesome child like herself as much as she claimed because Danielle didn't feel as though she was anything special that deserved such unconditional love. The least she could do, she thought, was obey her mother's instructions and go to bed.

Watching her daughter unlock the front door and go inside, Bree passed a quarter of an hour alone in the car going over everything that had happened. The adrenaline rush had disappeared and she was left worn and tired. She didn't know if she could manage to drag herself up the stairs to her room. She would've been happy to fall asleep where she sat, but a part of her yearned for the comfort and solitude that her bed offered. Besides, she needed to dish out punishment to Danielle, something she definitely wasn't looking forward to. Collecting enough energy, at last she entered the house only to see Rex sitting pensively on the couch, his elbows in his laps and his hands clasped together. It was a welcome sight. It took all she had to keep from throwing her arms around him.

"Hi," he said softly.

"Hi."

"Danielle, told me what happened."

"All of it?"

"Well, I don't know. Come over here and tell me about it so we're on the same page," he patted the cushion next to him. Complying, she sat down beside him.

They talked for nearly forty-five minutes; he listened scrupulously to everything she had to say, never interrupting her. As her husband, he intuitively knew that his wife was torn up inside. Bree confided in him her fears concerning Danielle, fears that any punishment she bestowed would be met with resistance and retaliation. Confessing that she was afraid of Danielle running away again, she blurted everything she'd kept bottled up inside for the last couple of weeks, including every last grisly detail of that awful time when their daughter had run off with Matthew Applewhite. He learned that her biggest dread was of destroying the feeble relationship with her daughter that she'd worked so hard to build. With a sympathetic ear, Rex soaked up everything his wife said. When she finished, he took her hand and cradled it between his. The small gesture was appreciated more than he'd ever know. Once again, she felt they were a team, a parental unit, and he'd given her back the confidence that she thought she'd lost when she dropped Andrew off in the middle of nowhere.

Together, they went up to Danielle's room with the intent to inform her of the punishment that was coming to her. Bree's stomach did flip-flops, not knowing how her daughter would react to the authority her mother was about to assert over her. Rex knocked on her door and they heard Danielle say dishearteningly, "Come in."

She was laying on her bed, but sat up when her parents entered her room.

"I'm sure you know why we're up here, Danielle," Bree started, trying to sound assertive. "I specifically told you not to go to that party and you did anyway. You father and I have decided to ground you for the time being. You are not to leave the house without our permission and you will tell us where you will be going and for how long. When we tell you to come home, you will come home without any protest. Do you understand?"

Soundlessly, Danielle nodded her head.

Thinking they were finished, Bree started to leave, but Rex had other plans. Stepping in front of Bree, he took the lead and garnered all the attention away from his wife, which she would be grateful for because things were about to turn ugly.

"In the meantime, I will be confiscating your cell phone, your car, your computer, your telephone and your television. If you insist on acting like a child, we will treat you like one. They will be locked up and you will have no access to them for the time being. Also, you will no longer be receiving an allowance."

Befuddled, Danielle looked from her father to her mother, trying to understand precisely what was going on. Hadn't she been punished enough? She already felt tremendous guilt for what she'd done, she didn't need this, too! Wholly surprised by this sudden change in Rex's manner, Bree simply sat back and watched.

"Why!"

Rex was prepared for this and thus answered fluidly, "Because you can no longer be trusted. When you can no longer be trusted, you lose your privileges. You'll have the opportunity to earn them back, but it will take time. You're getting to be of an age Danielle that you can't afford to make bad, childish decisions. You need some responsibility to teach you the consequences of your actions. Monday morning you'll start looking for a job..."

"What? Why!" Danielle's jaw dropped. She couldn't believe her ears!

"Because you're spoiled. If you want money to spend, you're going to have to earn it. You can't live off Mom and Dad forever."

"All this because I broke a few rules?" she spat bitterly.

"It's not as though you stole a couple of cookies from the cookie jar, Danielle, or forgot to take the trash out. You defied your mother and went to a party that had drugs and alcohol and was almost raped."

"Well, Mom waved a loaded gun around in a house full of people! Don't you know that's actually _illegal_ !"

Bree crossed her arms and retorted, "Do you know what's more illegal, Danielle? Underage drinking, drugs, twenty-year olds trying to rape seventeen-year olds and lustful partygoers doing lewd and indecent acts on handcarved 18th century Italian furniture!"

Donning a look of incredulity, Danielle returned, "That last one isn't illegal!"

"Well, it should be!" Bree indignantly scoffed.

"Your mother isn't the reason we're here," Rex cut in. "So, give me your cell phone. Tomorrow, your mother and I will be in here for everything else. From here on out, you will toe the line. Any further instances, will result in the loss of more privileges..."

Interrupting, Danielle sassed, "How many more privileges could I possibly lose?"

"If you keep talking to me in that tone of voice, you'll find out. It might get to the point where you won't be able to leave the house without being accompanied by me or your mom or all your friends desert you because they never get to talk to you anymore. It's up to you, but if you'd like to find out, keep acting the way you are right now. Your mom and I really have nothing else to do but sit around the house all day thinking up oppressive punishments to give you to satisfy our own sadistic amusement."

Resisting the urge to giggle, Bree put her hand over her mouth to hide a smile. Their daughter flashed her father a look of barely suppressed aggravation. Rex held out his hand, waiting for the cell phone. Danielle dug around in her purse and reluctantly handed over her lifeline. She was now cut off from the outside world of sanity, subjected from now until further notice to the wills of her parents. Suddenly, she envied Andrew.

Once Danielle had given away her phone, they left their daughter alone to stew and agonize how much her life sucked. Bree took the cell phone with her to lock in the safe stored at the bottom of her closet. Just as she was about to put it inside, it rang. The screen lit up and displayed the name of the person trying to call: _Big Bro_ .

It was Andrew.

Hurriedly, Bree pressed the talk button and shouted ecstatically, "Andrew? Andrew!" However, the line went dead and Bree's heart sank into a sea of disappointment. Knowing that Andrew was still in contact with his sister was almost reason enough to keep the phone with her, just in case he tried calling again. However, now that he knew his mother was answering Danielle's phone, more than likely he wouldn't try to call again. Sorrowfully, she placed the phone in the safe. She wanted--needed--to talk to her son. She loved him and missed the person that he had been, sorry for the person he had become.

After expressing her gratitude to Rex for his support in dealing with Danielle, she went to bed for the second time that night. Unlike before, sleep didn't immediately rob her of her consciousness. An hour passed by and it continued to elude her. She didn't know whether it was guilt over Andrew that was keeping her from nodding off or if it was her conflicting emotions over Orson and Rex. Orson was a total gentleman, funny and interesting and she wanted to see more of him, but Rex had proved himself capable tonight of being that partner she needed when parenting her children. But was that enough to make up for the year of lies and deceit and the pain it had caused her? Was it enough to make her love him again, in the way she so desperately desired?

Rising from the bed, she headed to the kitchen to get something to drink. A glass of wine would induce a soporific affect or perhaps some warm milk. Bree didn't care as long as she could get some sleep. Careful not to make a sound, Bree sneaked downstairs to the kitchen, knowing that Rex was probably fast asleep on the couch. As she descended the stairs, though, she heard soft music coming from the living room. Lurking in the darkness, her eyes were drawn to Rex who was sitting on the edge of the sofa, slightly slouched, with a drink in hand. He was listening to the same song which had stalked her so mercilessly the last twenty-four hours, reminding her of the many reasons why she had loved Rex in the first place.

"_...Lay, lady, lay, lay across my big brass bed,  
Lay, lady, lay, lay across my big brass bed,  
Whatever colors you have in your mind,  
I'll show them to you and you'll see them shine..."_

Walking up from behind, she lay her hand lovingly on his shoulder and sat down at his side. Regardless of all the lights being turned off and the room cast in darkness, she saw him smile at her.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"Of us. Of what we used to be. You probably won't believe this, but I hadn't listened to this song in twelve or thirteen years and just yesterday in the car, it came on the radio."

She chuckled lightly, "I can believe it. I think this is the fourth time I've heard this song in two days."

"Strange," Rex shrugged, shaking his head. "After I heard it, I just had to hear it again, so I searched around in the attic and found my old record player and the Dylan record I bought you for our first anniversary. I thought you might've thrown it out after... well, you know. It brings back so many memories."

"I know."

The song stopped and Rex went over to the record player and started it again.

"Remember, Bree, we used to play this song constantly when you were pregnant with Andrew. You used to complain that we were ruining his brain with Dylan when he should be listening to Mozart. You were concerned about his welfare before he'd even formed limbs!" He laughed nostalgically.

"I'd forgotten all about that," she said more to herself than to her husband.

"_...Lay, lady, lay, lay across my big brass bed,  
Stay, lady, stay, stay while the night is still ahead,  
I long to see you in the morning light,  
I long to reach for you in the night..." _

Sitting back down beside Bree, he turned to her and questioned in a voice low enough so that only they were privy to the discussion between them, "Remember when we used to stay up all night long making love to this song? There was no rush, no hurry. Each kiss was as meaningful as the next. There weren't any problems between us that we couldn't work through, no baggage, no lies. Nothing between us but our skin."

Trembling, a familiar sensation bloomed in her stomach and she saw Rex in a new light. Casting aside all trepidation and caution, she placed her hand to his cheek and tenderly turned his head toward her. A mere few inches separated them. They gazed at each other deeply and felt that their hearts and minds were in sync with one another. In Rex's eyes, she saw his love for her and there were no more questions in her mind of his motive for returning to her after a year's absence. Desire was there, too, but she couldn't be sure it wasn't simply a reflection of her own. She was lost in the moment, not caring about anything else. She wasn't concerned about what happened in the past or what would happen in the future as a consequence of acting on her present feelings. Bree needed Rex to erase the hurt he'd caused her; she needed him to fix the problems that had divided them.

Hungrily, she attacked his lips with her's and kissed him with an all-encompassing, consuming passion. Grabbing his shirt in her hands, she moaned in his mouth, wanting to feel more of him, wanting him to prove to her that he would never leave her again. He kissed her with the intensity that she ached for, slipping his tongue in her mouth to wrestle lovingly with her own. Widening her mouth a little more, she gave him the access he needed to launch a full assault with his lips. Surrendering to his touch, she properly welcomed her husband home.

Rex wrapped his arms possessively around the delicate figure of his wife as she used her own to encircle his neck. Gently and without breaking their kiss, he laid her down on the couch. His lips left her mouth to travel downward, caressing and teasing the salty skin of her chin, followed by her neck. Closing her eyes, she entangled one hand in his hair and stroked his back with the other, alternating between scraping her nails against the flesh she found there and digging her nails voraciously in the muscles that rippled with Rex's every movement. When he moved to lavish the nape of her neck with his tongue, she inhaled sharply and arched her back. With his teeth, he affectionately nipped and bit at her skin, sending waves of arousal rippling through her body. Raising back up he seized her fiery red hair and wove its silky strands between his fingers and once again ravished her mouth with unprecedented ferocity.

"God, Rex... Make love to me..." she pleaded.

His lips made another trip down her face and neck until he reached the milky skin of her chest. Removing one of the straps of Bree's nightgown aside, he peppered feather-light kisses on the topmost part of her bosom then suddenly and violently pulled back as though he was frightened. Panting, he stood up on wavering legs and looked down at her apologetically. She was out of breath, as well. Raising herself up, she supported her weight on her elbows, her chest heaving laboriously. The quizzical expression on her face was joined by lips swollen with passion and by hair that fell tantalizingly around her shoulders. She was giving herself freely to him, yet he felt that to take what she offered wouldn't be right. He was but a man, a man whose desire for his beautiful wife threatened to devour him. But he couldn't let his body make decisions that would later grieve his heart, or her's.

"Bree, I can't... We can't..."

"I see," she said dully as she averted her eyes and sat up.

"No, you don't see," he shook his head sadly. "It's not that I'm not attracted to you, Bree. I just don't think that you're ready for this. You still haven't forgiven me and I think a part of you hates me, whether you want to admit it or not. You'd be making love to a memory and tomorrow morning you'll hate yourself and wonder why you did it.

"I haven't touched another woman for twelve months and I'm willing to wait twelve more months for you. When you resolve your issues with me and when you can get passed my deceptions and my shortcomings, I'll be here waiting for you. But right now, we just can't do it. Not because we're trying to recapture the feelings that some stupid song reminded us that we once shared. We–we can't live in the past and you can't expect all your feelings to just go away because we have sex."

"Just sex? Is that how you see it? I would've thought we'd be making love," she snapped.

Rex sighed, trying to make Bree understand his point. "We're acting on feelings brought about by some old song that we used to listen to. It's not–it's not right. You're not the woman I married–"

Stung by his words, she didn't even let him finish before she shot up from the couch and ran upstairs, replacing the strap of her nightgown on her shoulder as she climbed the stairs.

"Bree, I didn't mean it to come out like that!" he called after her from the bottom of the staircase. "Bree, I didn't mean it the way it sounded!" Hearing her door slam, he cursed and kicked the bottom stair in all his disgruntlement, knowing it wouldn't do any good to follow her.

In her room, Bree collapsed on the bed and curled up in the fetal position, letting the tears fall plentifully from her eyes. She just wanted to forget everything that had happened. Weary, she just wanted to go to sleep. Sobbing generously, without restraint, into her pillow, she felt someone's hand on her shoulder. Assuming it was Rex, she turned slightly, ready to scream at him to leave her alone, but instead of her husband, her eyes fell upon the form of her daughter. Bree couldn't think of anyone else she needed more at that moment. Crawling into bed with her mother, Danielle opened her arms and welcomed her mother into her embrace. There, Bree gradually cried herself to sleep as Danielle held onto her tightly and comforted the woman that had consoled her so many times in the past. There were advantages and disadvantages to having paper-thin walls in the house, and Danielle was at once glad that she'd elected to remain in the room just on the other side of the wall rather than move into Andrew's old room. Hearing her mother cry and knowing her father probably had something to do with it made Danielle cringe to imagine her mother being alone and trying to deal with everything that had happened between them. She wondered if her parents would ever work things out and stop hurting one another. From her vantage point, though, the chances of them reconciling weren't looking too good at all.


	4. Fools In Love

**Author's Notes:** I want to thank all my readers, especially the ones who frequently PMed me, emailed me and replied on the "Return to Me" forum. Devoted fans like you are rare and I appreciate you very, very much. It touches me to have such great readers. :) I'm sorry I couldn't get this out any sooner, but the recent major changes to my life didn't leave a lot of time to write. That seems to be changing, however. Thank you so much again and I hope you like this chapter and continue to read. hugs

The title of this chapter comes from the song _Fools In Love_ by Inara George which fit so perfectly with this chapter. Give it a listen and tell me what you think.

The "Return to Me" forums are open and await your discussion. Tell me what you think, what you want to see or just ask me a question. I must admit, I haven't been on the internet much in the last few months, so it may take me a LONG time to respond, but I will definitely try to reply. No promises, though! (Hey, at least I'm honest about it. ;))

Lastly, this chapter is rated **M**. If you're underage, LEAVE NOW!

Enjoy.

* * *

_Fools In Love_

"Come on, Bree, you haven't met us for poker in over three weeks!" Lynette's voice boomed through the phone and into Bree's ear. "You can let the laundry pile up for one night! You need a little fun in your life. We've barely seen you since Rex came home!"

"I know, I know," Bree replied. "There's just been so much going on here that requires my attention. I don't have much time for anything else."

"If you think I'm buying that excuse, you're sorely mistaken. I think you're avoiding us, especially me."

True to her personality, Lynette had once again caught Bree off-guard with her painfully extraordinary ability to be blunt. Silently, Bree wondered if Lynette was just perverse enough to enjoy making people squirm. She tried to cover up the ten seconds of dead air that had befallen the conversation, but her protests were unconvincing.

"Lynette, that's ridiculous. Honestly, why in God's name would I be avoiding you?"

"Because you passed out drunk at the party you threw for Rex's homecoming. You haven't talked to any of us since, except for Susan. You haven't been returning my calls, you haven't come over to see me, you stay holed up in your house hiding from everyone!"

Bree rolled her eyes and responded, becoming a bit more affronted with every accusation, "I do not stay _holed_ up in my house. I've just–I've been busy. Rex and I have a lot to work out and it's taken up most of my time."

"So, you and Rex talk all day, every day? About your relationship?" Lynette said unbelievingly. "Well, no wonder you're still having problems. You're probably sick and tired of seeing each other! If that's all Tom and I did, I'd probably be drinking, too."

Narrowing her eyes, Bree was incensed at her friend's unfounded accusations, "Excuse me? What do you mean by that?"

On the other end of the line, Lynette shrugged. "I mean that I think you're lying and what's really going on is that you're drinking and you don't want anyone else to find out about your problem, so you're hiding out in your house instead of seeking help."

"I think this conversation is over, Lynette. I don't appreciate you attacking me and implying that I have some kind of problem that I'm supposedly hiding from everyone. You have no idea what has transpired in the last few weeks. You shouldn't be so quick to judge, seeing how you have your own problems with Nora and Kayla."

Without showing anger or vexation of any kind, Lynette attempted to rationalize her stance, "The difference between you and me, Bree, is that I'm dealing with my problems. It might not be the best way of dealing with them, but I'm meeting them head-on and I'm taking an active role in trying to fix my problems! I'm not–I'm not–," Lynette paused to collect her wits about her. She really wasn't trying to provoke Bree's wrath, but she was genuinely worried about the friend who'd become more withdrawn lately. Passive was not a word to be found in Lynette's vocabulary for she did everything with an aggressive gusto that often times alienated those about her. "Bree, I'm not attacking you. I'm worried about you. I feel like I've lost my best friend. It's been difficult trying to deal with Nora's crazy antics and her summoning Tom to her house at all hours of the night for some reason or another without the support of my best friend. I want to be there for you, too, but you won't let me!"

"So, insulting me is your twisted way of telling me that you miss me?" Bree wasn't buying it and if she weren't such a stickler for etiquette, she would've slammed down the phone in Lynette's ear.

"I'm not insulting you. It would be the same if I thought you had, oh, I don't know, pneumonia and refused to go to the doctor to have it treated," pressed Lynette.

"Well, seeing how I have neither pneumonia or a drinking problem, I think your argument is moot. For the sake of being polite, is there anything else you'd like to say before I hang up the phone?" she snapped rather harshly.

"Yes. We're getting together for poker tonight. I need a break, so Tom's watching the kids and we're all going to meet at Gaby's."

"So?"

"So, you're going to be there. I don't care if you have to let laundry go until Thursday or if you have to make Rex cook his own dinner, I want to see you there. I'll be at your house this evening at seven and we'll walk over to Gaby's together."

"I'm afraid I can't make it," Bree flatly declined, her voice anything but apologetic. "I have other pressing issues to tend to."

Lynette sighed then exploded in exasperation, "Fine. If you want to sit home and drink yourself into oblivion, who am I to stop you? I thought we'd get together and have a good time because we're all going through rough spots right now and we could use each other's support. But it seems you don't need anything but the liquor. Good-bye, Bree."

Without getting a word in edgewise, the line went dead and an appalled Bree realized that Lynette had hung up on her.

"The nerve of her!" she squealed angrily.

Lynette had said some stinging things before that wounded Bree's feelings, but never of the magnitude of the bold allegations that had just been delivered over the phone. What hurt Bree even more than the words themselves was the fact they had been said by someone she considered a close friend. At that moment she felt that no one in the world cared about her: not Lynette, not her children and not her husband.

The distance between Rex and her had widened since the night she'd almost let sense and practicality slip through her fingers to give way to a few minutes of carnal pleasure. But like Lynette, Rex had also chosen to fling insults her way, saying she wasn't the woman he'd married. Just who was she supposed to be? She certainly felt the same as she did all those years ago; the only thing that had changed was the seemingly slower and duller pace her life was treading. The good years had left her behind. The love and joy and excitement they contained had vanished into memories that haunted her. Bree no longer derived happiness from those recollections; instead, sadness emerged from the lingering shadows of a time she'd remembered as being the best of her life. From her vantage point, her life was going downhill. Her relationship with Rex was obviously unsalvageable, her son was lost to her and her best friend was aggravated with her. With all her heart, Bree wished someone could look deep into her soul and cure all those cancerous troubles that metastasized with each passing day, causing her such unbearable mental pain. She knew that even if she stood in the middle of Wisteria Lane and screamed bloody murder at the top of her lungs, no one would hear her.

Being alone didn't help her feel any better. Rex had started working at Fairview Hospital again spending hours there, sometimes whole days. Bree was certain it was due to the fact that he needed to escape the thick tension that had settled between them. Since last week's humiliation, she had barely spoken two words to him. Only out of necessity had she directly addressed him or entered a room that he occupied. Over all, she preferred not be anywhere near him. If she was that hideous and repulsive, she'd rather not have him in her sight incessantly reminding her that she couldn't satisfy her husband's lust (the way Maisy Gibbons apparently had).

The day after Rex and she meted out punishment to their daughter, a cantankerous Danielle had found a summer job at Fairview Mall. She hadn't been ill-tempered for too long as she soon discovered that many of her friends also worked there and thus figured that it would be her only opportunity to see them as long as her grounding was in effect. For someone who had nearly everything in her room confiscated from the television to the stereo to the computer, not to mention her cell phone and car, she was in unusually high spirits. Of course, it could be because Danielle couldn't stand to be anywhere near her mother and was all too happy to get a six hour a day break from her. Bree was absolutely positive that Danielle's unhappiness wasn't a product of her own imagination because her daughter, on more than one occasion, reminded Bree, in very precise terms, that she couldn't wait to get away from her and gladly offered to get a second job.

As for Susan, Gaby and Lynette, well, in the time since Rex had returned, she came to feel alienated from them. It was as though they'd moved on and she was stuck dealing with the repercussions from past deeds and had been trying ever since to catch up with the present. Peering from one of the living room windows, Bree saw life pass her by. Adults went about their lives performing their daily tasks as children overran the street with their youthful zest, bouncing from one activity to another. Clouds passed by overhead and birds dotted the sky, flying from one point to another. The longer Bree watched, the more the desire to join the world outside grew within her. She hungered to feel apart of something, to feel some kind of anonymous closeness. For so long she'd been isolated that a few hours company began to sound enticing. Another night staying cooped up in her house facing demons she couldn't quell wasn't appealing in the least and she didn't think she had the strength to endure the abuse that she'd been afflicting upon her psyche. Maybe, just maybe, Lynette did have a good idea, after all. With a smile, Bree left her place next to the window and went upstairs to get ready. She had a poker game to attend.

A little over two hours later, Bree found herself in front of Gabrielle Solis's front door. The wind gently played with the thin material of her knee-length, lilac-colored summer dress as she waited to be let in the house. It wasn't but a few seconds after ringing the doorbell that the house's owner was opening the door to greet her unexpected guest.

"Bree!" exclaimed Gaby in astonishment. Obviously stunned, Gaby's mouth hung open briefly as she tried to find the words to express her surprise. A little uneasy with being gawked at, Bree stood awkwardly and fidgeted with her purse strap, waiting to be asked inside. Soon, however, both Gaby and Susan were swarming around her, excitedly leading her indoors where she saw a grinning Lynette.

Bree walked up to her friend not knowing what to expect. She wasn't sure if she was angry at Lynette for her previous inconsiderate statements she'd dished out over the phone or if she should still be embarrassed for stumbling in front of all them after having a bit too much wine at Rex's homecoming. No matter, Bree would attempt to keep a stiff upper lip and not fall prey to emotional triggers.

"Hello, stranger," Lynette greeted warmly.

However, that simple, kind greeting struck something inside of Bree so deeply that any attempts at refraining from an emotional response were shattered. She didn't understand why, but Lynette's welcoming face in spite of their earlier verbal exchange was just what she needed. It was release that Bree craved more than anything and now she felt she had an outlet to all the frustrations and pain that relentlessly stifled her. Without realizing what she was doing, Bree reached out and grabbed Lynette in a hug. Though she hadn't meant to, Bree embraced her friend tightly, clinging to her in a way that she hadn't been able to cling to anyone else in what seemed like an eternity. Silently, she thought of Lynette as her beacon in the dark, someone to whom she could turn when the storms became too insufferable. Even if Lynette was never made aware of her newfound significance in Bree's life, it was comforting to Bree that if she asked, Lynette was there to offer her time, her ears and her sympathy. It was a fact that brought tears to the red-head's eyes.

"Hey, are you ok?" whispered Lynette in Bree's ear as she patted her back reassuringly.

A nod was the only thing Bree could muster as she feared her voice would give way to the feelings that frequently tormented her.

"We're so happy to see you, honey!" Gaby offered in a sincere voice. "Come on back to the kitchen table! Susan was just setting up the game. We need to catch up 'cause it's been so long since we've seen you!"

Flanked on either side by Lynette and Gaby, Bree was led into the kitchen. The first thing she noticed as she entered the brightly decorated room was a bottle of wine on the table. A part of her so badly wanted to down a glass of its bittersweet liquid to silence the apprehensive edge that had laced her demeanor since joining the three women, but she knew their eyes were on her, eagerly awaiting her next move. Susan must've caught Bree staring at the wine bottle because she quickly jaunted over to the table and snatched it up.

She laughed nervously, "We were just, uh, going to put this away. Somewhere. Uh, we weren't going to drink it." It was a lame finish, but Bree expected nothing else from Susan. She just knew they all thought she was some lush that sat around all day neglecting her chores so that she could pump herself full of liquor.

Plastering a fake, bitter smile on her face, she remarked dryly, "Please don't abstain simply on my account. I only drink when I'm home alone with all the lights out and preferably before noon. So, you have nothing to worry about from me."

"Bree, we weren't insinuating anything..." Gaby started apologetically, but Bree cut her off.

"No? Then why is it that Susan's playing hide-the-wine when I walk in the door?"

"We just thought, honey, that maybe you wouldn't want to drink," Lynette said.

"Well, whatever gave you that idea! Could it be those preconceived notions that you spoke of during our short, but scathing phone conversation today??"

Impatient, Lynette gave up trying to be considerate toward her friend and told Susan in irritation, "You know what? Susan, open that bottle up and set it on the table! Now, Bree, if you're satisfied let's play poker."

The ladies took their seats at the table and Gaby shuffled the cards. Silence filled the room, each woman speaking only when necessary. None of them touched the wine, Bree observed. Once everything had been said and done, she was actually sorry for making a big deal over nothing. When she calmed down, she realized they were her friends who were merely looking out for her well-being. They hadn't been critical in the slightest and they weren't judging her. It was as if she were trying to sabotage her first night out in ages by acting on insecure assumptions! Bree was not one given to insecurities, but in light of the recent episodes pertaining to her home life, it was no wonder her sensitivity was heightened. Having someone care and look out for her was an almost foreign concept as she wasn't used to receiving anyone's concern and her first reaction was to dismiss it.

Assaying to heal the discomfort that had encroached the women, the discomfort _she'd_ caused, Bree decided to clear the air by asking Susan how Mike was faring following the hit-and-run accident which had left him in a coma. Soon the awkwardness of earlier had dissipated as the ladies of Wisteria Lane chatted endlessly about their lives, their loves and their problems. To her immense surprise, even Bree found herself laughing once again and having a good time. Though she refrained from opening up about her own troubles, preferring to give short, not quite truthful answers, it felt great to hear that she wasn't the only one in the world having problems. Of course, she was extremely sorry for Gaby and Carlos whose marriage seemed to be over and she hated that Mike Delfino had been in a coma for several weeks, but there was a comradery that formed that night at the poker game which gave support to each person who was going through her own tough issues at home, in particular, Bree.

Three hours and eight rounds of poker later, Gaby laid her cards on the table and remarked, "You know what's wrong with us? We've become these old housewives that are content with staying home in our _safe_ environment where nothing exciting happens to us. Susan, when's the last time you got out and did anything exciting??"

Susan answered sardonically, "Gaby, I live in an RV down by the lake. How much more exciting can you get?"

"Ok..." began Gaby uncertainly. "Bree! When's the last time you did anything daring??"

Bree pretended to rack her brain. "Well, I stood in between my daughter and her murdering boyfriend while he had a gun to my head. Does that count?"

"All right, bad choice of words. But see, we're put into those kind of situations, we didn't have a choice. It was just circumstance that led Susan to live in an RV and Bree to have a gun to her head. We need to take charge and do something risky and daring; push the limits, so to speak. We need to put a little fun and danger in our lives and not wait for it to find us!"

Lynette interjected, "Let me get this straight. So, what you're saying, Gaby, is that Bree should've lived more dangerously by taking the gun out of Matthew Applewhite's hand and put it to her own head?" Lynette turned to Bree and smirked and which sent Bree into a fit of giggles.

Sighing exasperatingly, Gaby explained, "No, I'm saying we should stop hiding out at home and do something fun!"

"I thought that's what tonight was about..." said Susan.

"We need to do something daring." A glimmer of mischief shone in Gaby's eyes. Bree could tell that she itched to get out of the house and be brazen and bold, if only for one night. The only problem was Bree wasn't sure she wanted to find danger because in the past, danger had not been too kind to her and therefore she opted to stay away from it when possible.

"And just what do you suggest, Mrs. Solis?" asked Lynette a little skeptically.

Appearing to be deep in thought, Gaby didn't answer immediately. But when she finally got an idea, her eyes widened with excitement. "You know that lake down by Susan's RV...?"

The ladies nodded.

"We can go skinny dipping! Carlos and I did it on our honeymoon and it was so much fun!"

At Gaby's suggestion, the girls shook their heads and promptly answered in the negative.

"Come on, guys! It's late, it's dark out, who's going to see us?"

"That's the craziest idea I've ever heard!" Lynette screeched. "I mean, I'm all up for living life to its fullest, but swimming naked in dirty water is not what I had in mind."

"Lynette, have you ever went skinny dipping before?"

"I take a shower every day, does that count?"

"Prude," Gaby shot back.

"I think Lynette's right," piped up Bree. "I don't think it's such a good idea. I mean, what if we get caught?"

"That's the whole point in going skinny dipping! C'mon guys, let's do it, just once."

Quite unexpectedly, Susan chimed in, "Ok, I'm in!"

"What?!" cried Lynette disbelievingly. "Susan, have you lost your mind?!"

"Oh, Lynette, I've virtually been living at the hospital everyday, waiting for any sign of Mike to wake up. I've been eating hospital food twice a day, everyday for God's sakes! I need to do something, I don't know... crazy. I feel like I'm going to explode if I don't!"

Bree was all too acquainted with that feeling, nevertheless she didn't know how swimming in the nude out in public was suppose to cure it.

To everyone's amazement, Lynette, the "voice of reason" relented, albeit cautiously. "Fine. I'll go along, but only as the look-out because Tom and I just wrote Nora a big check so there's no money left to bail anyone out of jail."

"Well, I should probably be getting home," Bree claimed as she stood up from the table. She didn't want to go skinny dipping and she didn't want to be anywhere near them when they were caught by the police, because that's exactly what would happen. It seemed that lately they'd all had the worst luck in the world and Bree didn't think it very smart to tempt fate.

"Oh no you don't," Lynette ordered, grabbing Bree's arm tightly. "If I have to go, you do, too."

Trying to break away from Lynette's grasp, Bree tugged her arm a couple of times, but gave up when she saw it was no use. "I have things to do at home. I really do have to get back. Rex should be home soon."

"So? Let Rex fend for himself for one night. You're coming with me and you don't have a choice in the matter. Come on, Bree, don't you want to live dangerously?" Rolling her eyes, Lynette's sarcasm thickly coated her last sentence.

"Gee, I thought that's what I've been doing for the last year."

"Well, then let Rex live dangerously for one night and let him cook his own dinner and do his own laundry. Besides, if the police come, you and I have an advantage. We'll be able to run to the car and drive away."

When Bree burst out laughing, Lynette knew she'd won the argument. "Ok, ok, I'll go. But you can never tell anyone that we went skinny dipping. I have a reputation to maintain."

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind," Lynette replied briskly. "Ok, let's get this over with."

Gaby and Susan squealed causing Lynette to groan. She sensed the uneasiness in her friend and thus whispered out of the side of her mouth, "Look at it this way, Bree: we'll take pictures and blackmail them if they ever try to get us to do something like this again."

"We won't need to take pictures if we're able to steal their mugshots." Both ladies laughed as they walked out the door toward Susan's car.

The entire journey to the lake was filled with enthusiastic talk and giggles from Susan and Gaby and saucy quips from Lynette. It was about a fifteen minute drive and soon they saw the Mayer RV parked a few hundred feet from the shore. Susan suggested that they walk a little ways around the relatively large body of water to a spot that was partially secluded and concealed by tall trees to give them more privacy. Two of the women rapidly threw off their clothes and ran into the water while the other two watched from afar.

"They're absolutely nuts! What's gotten into them?" Lynette shook her head as she watched Gaby and Susan swimming and laughing in the lake.

"I just hope no one catches us. How embarrassing!"

"I don't think anyone will catch us. It's so far out in the middle of nowhere, there's no reason for anyone to be out here."

The pair of friends stood for a long time on the knoll just up from the shore. The June night was hot and humid and before long, Bree was feeling her damp hair sticking to the back of her neck. Even the light material of her dress didn't keep her body cool. The wind that rustled the leaves on the surrounding trees brought no relief from the heat as the air was as warm as the temperature outside. Shortly, sweat started trickling down her back and forming beads at her hairline.

Seeing a relaxed Gaby and Susan lounging in the water was luring. As she sat atop the small hill slowly roasting alive, they were down there cooling off in the water. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and thought how delicious the water would feel against her hot skin. She'd like nothing better to strip off her moistened clothes and jump into the lake with her friends. The one thing holding her back was her modesty. That and, well, the law.

"That sure does look good," Lynette sighed upon putting her hair up in a messy ponytail.

Bree fanned herself. "Yeah."

"To hell with it! I'm going in." Lynette shot up and tore at her clothes to remove them as quickly as possible.

"Lynette, what are you doing?!" She was aghast. Would she have to sit there all alone while everyone else had a good time cooling off?

Lynette had just jerked her trousers off when she told Bree, "Come on, Bree, we haven't seen anyone the whole time we've been up here. We're safe. Look, doesn't the water look fabulous! Imagine how cool it's going to feel."

"No, I–I can't. I'm going to stay here."

"Oh, come on! It'll be fine."

"No, I can't." Bree was grateful that it was night because she felt her skin redden with embarassment. Little did the other woman know how modest she truly was. It was unfathomable to undress in front of people other than her husband, and to tell the truth, undressing in front of Rex wasn't as fun as it used to be.

"Are you scared?"

"No..."

"We're all women, Bree. You don't have anything we don't have."

"I–I... don't want anyone to see me." Bree brought her arms around her as if she were already naked.

Thankfully, Lynette was sympathetic to her plight. "Ok, go in the trees and take your clothes off. I'll go on down to the lake and tell Susan and Gaby to turn around while you get in the water. All right?"

Nodding, Bree went towards a thicket of trees and hurriedly undressed. Though the breeze was wonderful against her exposed skin, she was still paranoid about someone finding her out.

After she finished disrobing, she shouted timidly, "I'm coming in!"

The three women in the lake instantly turned around so that Bree could immerse herself in the lake and retain her dignity. Her first steps were chilled by the coldness of the water against her feet but as she continued to submerge herself, she became more used to the lake's lower temperature. Upon being completely covered, she sighed in ecstasy. It was a beautiful night with a full moon and a thousand twinkling stars hanging in the sky overhead; and though it was a hot night, it was a pleasant experience to let the warm wind brush against wet skin. Over time, Bree's fears melted and she began to feel at ease.

The ladies swam and talked the hour away, continuing the conversation from earlier. Content to stay out of any conversation about herself, Bree shied away from providing too many details about the hellish turn her life had taken in the month since Rex came home. Too much talk would lead to questions she really didn't want to answer. Unfortunately, they got asked anyway.

"How are you and Rex doing?" questioned Susan.

"Oh, we're fine. Just fine." She responded sweetly, hoping to put an end to the questioning.

"Have you been having lots of make-up sex??" Gaby asked which made Susan, Lynette and her giggle uncontrollably.

"I'm not one to let people into my bedroom," sniffed Bree succinctly, quite put off by the tawdry question.

"Whoa, is the sex is that bad?" Lynette prodded.

"I refuse to discuss the details of my private life," Bree turned and swam away from the other women. To her chagrin, they followed.

"You and Rex haven't had sex since he's returned, have you?" Lynette's tune changed. Going from a teasing voice to a serious one, she inquired further. "You and Rex haven't been getting along, have you?"

"It's going to take time to get used to him being there. He was gone for a year and now he's suddenly back. I don't know exactly how I feel about the whole situation."

"Honey, why don't you tell him to move out until you sort out your feelings. That might help you to make up your mind. Maybe... Maybe you've moved on and you're at a point that you don't love him any more. It's nothing to be ashamed of; he was the one that left," Gaby pointed out.

"I don't want him to leave!" protested Bree vehemently. "I want him there!"

Sensing they weren't getting the whole story, Lynette pushed her friend to open up and tell them the truth so they could help and offer their advice. "Then what's wrong, Bree? You don't seem happy at all. We don't see you any more, it's like you've moved out of the neighborhood."

Bree hesitated at first, but then answered honestly, "I don't think I can trust him again."

"That's understandable, he broke your trust not only by leaving you, but he also broke it when he cheated on you," said Lynette. "But do you love him?"

"I–he's the father of my children. We had eighteen wonderful years of marriage. He was good to me."

"You didn't answer my question. Do you love him?"

At first, Bree wanted to answer "no", she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs that she hated Rex Van De Kamp with a passion that hell had never seen. She tried in vain to give voice to that simple, two-letter word, but something held her back and prevented her from doing so. Instead Bree asserted, "Yes, I love him."

"Then don't let him hurt you anymore. You take charge and either forgive him or kick him to the curb because no man is worth feeling the way that you do." At this, Susan and Gaby nodded in agreement.

"I want to work it out, I just don't know if we can do it," Bree confessed. It was liberating to be able to talk to her friends like this. She sorely missed having them around and was glad she'd agreed to attend poker night at Gaby's.

"Do you love him enough to work it out?" Susan asked.

"I love him that much."

"Think how it would be to have him leave again. Do you want that? Would you be happy if he left? How would you feel?" This time Gaby asked the questions.

"I...I–I would be devastated," Bree finally admitted. "It would kill me if he left again. I love him so much, so very much."

"Then girlfriend, you go home, light some candles, put on something sexy and see-through and keep Rex in bed until the both of you develop bed sores!"

Giggling like a schoolgirl at Gaby's advice, Bree was about to say something when the ladies saw a couple of lights in the distance. Coming from the trees which were suppose to be protecting their privacy, the lights slowly grew bigger and bigger until the girls realized they were actually flashlights.

"Lynette, I thought you said that know one would come up here!" whispered a panicked and frantic Bree.

"Do I look like I have my own 1-900 number?!""

"Shhh, maybe if we're quiet, they'll go away," suggested Susan.

As luck would have it, of the two people walking in the woods, at least one was a policeman whose muffled voice was immediately recognizable to Susan. Without further delay, Gaby, Susan and Lynette jumped out of the lake and ran ashore to fetch their clothes. Meanwhile, a frightened Bree stayed put.

"Bree, come on!" hissed Lynette in a loud whisper.

"I can't! I don't want them to see me!"

"If you don't get out, they _will_ see you!"

"No!"

"Bree Van De Kamp, this is no time to be modest! Do you want to be on the eleven o'clock news??"

Bree was unable to answer as the cops shone their flashlights in just the right spot, illuminating the half-dressed figures of Mrs. Mayer, Mrs. Solis and Mrs. Scavo. They screamed and ran into the woods followed closely by the cops. Thankful they hadn't noticed her in the water, she stayed absolutely still until she was certain she couldn't hear any more voices. Once everyone had cleared out, Bree safely made it to shore and stole up to the hill where she left her clothing. To her distress, though, her clothing was no where to be found. Her dress had vanished; nothing remained but her panties. Posthaste, she trailed back down to the lake to let the water shroud her nudity.

She didn't know what to do. Her best hope was to wait until her friends came back for her. That is, if they weren't on their way to jail at this very moment. Twenty minutes went by, then thirty. By the time forty minutes had passed, it appeared as though Bree would be there all night. Knowing that the water was pruning her skin, she wanted to get out, but the thought of her sitting in the woods exposed like some hippie at Woodstock wasn't at all appealing. Her thinking changed when she felt something long and scaly glide against her legs. Petrified, she shrieked and sped once again up the shore, taking refuge behind a tree. Panting heavily, she peeked around the trunk to make sure whatever it was hadn't followed her. Not seeing anything, she relaxed somewhat and caught her breath.

If she could just make it to Susan's RV, maybe she could get inside, find some clothes and call someone to come and get her. Danielle was out of the question because Rex and she had confiscated her daughter's car. Rex was definitely not an option. Little by little, she soundlessly crept along the darkened dirt path obscured by large trees and overgrown brush. Praying to God that know one would see her, she covered her breasts with her hands, her panties crushed up in one of those hands, and squatted down to try and conceal her front side. The closer she got to Susan's temporary home, the faster Bree's heart beat in anticipation of getting indoors. She promised to God that she would never do anything as foolish again.

A mere fifteen feet separated a long suffering Bree from her target, however as she was about to make a mad dash to the front door, a car pulled in the gravel driveway.

"Damn!" she cursed in aggravation, hastily ducking behind a tree.

Hearing the car stop and afterwards the slamming of a car door, Bree peeked around the trunk to see a figure walking up to Susan's RV. At first, it was impossible to tell who the mysterious stranger was it being so dark, but as the person moved closer to the dim light that hung directly above the front door, Bree was overjoyed to see that it was Orson Hodge.

Orson knocked on the door a couple of times, but there was no answer. As he was about to turn and leave, Bree summoned enough courage to call out his name. The first attempt was so weak that he barely heard it; it was enough of a noise, though, that he stopped and looked from left to right as if it had been made by some wild animal.

Again, she called his name, this time in a stronger voice. Encircling the car and looking behind the trailer, he shouted, "Bree?! Is that you?"

"Yeah. I'm over here!" she kept herself hidden except for the hand she waved to show Orson her location.

Seeing him walking towards her, she screamed, "No! Orson, stay where you are. I'm in no condition to be seen at the moment!"

Stopping dead in his tracks, he asked worriedly, "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm all right. Well, maybe my pride is a little hurt, but I'm fine. I've, uh, gotten myself into a kind of sticky situation."

"What is it, Bree?" Orson was very curious, but he was also a little concerned as he detected an uneasiness in Bree's speech.

"I, uh... I went swimming with Lynette and Susan and Gaby and, well, the cops came and they ran off, presumably with my clothes. I, um, I don't have anything on at present and it's really quite embarrassing. I don't know where the girls went. They could be in jail for I know..."

The hilarity of the situation suddenly struck Orson and he laughed until his eyes watered. Bree, on the other hand, didn't think it very funny and was scandalized.

"I don't think it's very funny! Anyone at anytime could've seen me! I have children who would be horrified to see their mother on television after arrested for–for indecent exposure!"

"With a body like yours, Bree, I would hardly call it _indecent_."

All the blood in her body rushed to her face and a flash of heat expeditiously crawled like thousands of tiny spiders under her skin, burrowing deep in the tissue. It had been a while since anyone had complimented her like that. As flattered as she was that Orson was attracted to her, or rather, her body, it scared her, too. She liked Orson, but she was married to Rex. Remembering her declaration of love for Rex to her friends a scant hour ago, shame and confusion messed with her mind. Sometimes it seemed that Rex didn't love her and other times, she was afraid to let him love her. Bree wanted Rex to be attracted to her, to be turned on by her. It was every housewife's daydream for her husband to come home after a hard day's work and be so full of longing and lust for his wife that he can't wait to take her upstairs to make love to her. Rex would never be so spontaneous. Perhaps their marriage had lost its spark and Rex no longer desired her.

Clearing her throat, she ignored Orson's statement and said, "Would it be possible for you to take me home?"

"Of course! Not a problem at all!"

"And, um, would you happen to have anything that I might wear? I'm kind of, uh, bare, if you know what I mean."

"Certainly. I think I probably have a spare overcoat in the back. I try to keep something in case of an emergency. Let me look."

Orson rustled around in the trunk of his car for a few minutes, occasionally making a "hmmm" sound. With each passing second, Bree became more nervous. She was sure that something bad would happen. Either the police would catch her or someone she knew would see her or, God forbid, Danielle and her friends would somehow cross paths with her. Would the nightmares ever end?!

After what seemed like forever passed, she heard Orson exclaim, "Ah ha! I knew this was back here!" He pulled a long, black cashmere coat from the trunk of his car. Removing the plastic covering, he gave it a quick dusting and asked Bree, "Ok, here it is. Uh, how do you propose that I get it to you?"

"Shut your eyes and walk it over here," she responded meekly. She stuck her arm and hand out from behind the tree, ready to receive the long awaited coat. "And whatever you do, don't look!"

"It's pitch black out here and you're hiding behind a tree, what exactly am I suppose to not look at??"

Agitated, Bree snapped, "Orson, please just bring me the coat."

Once she slipped it on and buttoned it up, she thought herself decent enough to step out of the shadow of the tree which had concealed her nudity. Orson had come to Susan's RV in hopes of returning her jacket to her. She'd accidentally left it in his office the other day when she'd come in for an appointment. He didn't feel comfortable with leaving it on her door step, but since he would be taking Bree home, he was satisfied with the idea of leaving the jacket with her so she could deliver it to her friend.

After opening the door for Bree, Orson climbed into the front seat and they drove off.

"Are you going to tell me what you girls were doing at the lake?"

"Swimming," came her flat, terse reply.

"Obviously," he chuckled. "But why in heaven's name didn't you bring bathing suits?"

"We were living 'dangerously'. Or so Gaby said."

"Well, did you have fun?"

"Does this look like the face of someone who had a barrel of laughs?" Bree turned to him and glared, her mouth doing a perfect imitation of an upside-down 'U'.

"Don't be embarrassed, Bree. I don't think any the less of you."

Suddenly feeling worn out, Bree sighed wearily, "Orson, I really don't want to talk about it. I just want to forget the whole thing. Right now I want to go home, soak in a hot bath and go to bed and sleep until noon tomorrow."

"That sounds like a good idea. But Bree, can I be honest with you? Honest without you taking offence?" he asked with a ripple of uncertainty woven into his voice.

All Bree wanted to do was rest her mind and her body. At the moment, she neither wanted to do any strenuous thinking or bodily movements. She only wanted to cease the thoughts and worries that plagued her fatigued brain, but out of kind propriety, since Orson was generous enough to lend her his coat and drive her home, she was willing to listen to his query.

"Uh, I suppose."

They were stopped at a red light and so Orson took advantage of the opportunity to look into Bree's eyes with a genuine tenderness that she'd longed to see in a man's face. While she wasn't generally a weak person, tonight she was an exhausted, aggrieved woman who had nowhere to turn. For months, she lived behind the walls of a fortress she built for herself that served to keep out the world, the negativity, the things she didn't want to deal with and right now, if she were allowed one person to breach those walls, she would pick Orson. The way his eyes gazed at her, they seemed to understand her, to want to help her. And she wanted their comfort, their security and their support. She didn't want to be alone anymore. And whilst she didn't want to invite the world in to her self-made prison, she would consider allowing her newest friend inside.

"Bree, if it were me you were coming home to tonight, I can assure you, sleeping would be the last thing you'd be doing." The light turned green and he was again facing forward.

Stunned, she turned away her gaze and watched the view from the window, electing not to reply. Flattered yet abashed, she couldn't think of anything to say that would alleviate the awkwardness she found in the present situation. Damn Rex! It angered her to think that he didn't say things like that to her. If he did, she wouldn't be so completely puzzled as to how to handle Orson. It was likely that her husband never gave her a second's thought throughout his busy day. All he would have to do is ask her and she would be his. She didn't care anymore about the past. She was more than willing to forget it, to start over. In that instant, something inside of her changed and she knew she wanted Rex, flaws and all. She just wanted to love him and to receive his love in return. Maybe that's what he was talking about the night he rebuffed her and told her she wasn't ready to give herself to him, in mind or body. The sex was unimportant to her at the moment because she simply wanted to tell him that she loved him and forgave him. Smiling to herself, she couldn't wait to get home and hoped Rex was there waiting for her. It seemed to be taking Orson forever to get to Wisteria Lane, but once he turned onto the street, she was so delirious with excitement and love she nearly jumped out of the car as it continued to move at a steady thirty-five miles per hour.

Impatient as she was, she did let Orson open the car door for her and walk her to the front door of her house. Retrieving the spare key from beneath a flower pot, she energetically burst forth into her home looking for Rex. First she went to the living room then the kitchen, then, with less enthusiasm, in the dining room and downstairs bathroom.

"Rex?!" she shouted with much anticipation. However, she was dismayed when she found a post-it note Rex had written stuck to the refrigerator.

_After work, the guys and I decided to go fishing. Be back day after tomorrow._

Bree read is twice just to make sure she'd read what she thought she'd read, then crumpled it up and threw it away. Blinking back tears, her heart sank into a sea of disappointment. Just when she needed him the most, she when she so badly wanted to tell him something so important, he was gone. It shouldn't have surprised her. It seemed he had a knack for disappearing just when she needed him the most. Coincidentally, to match her mood, there was a sharp clap of thunder outside followed quickly by a flash of lightning. A storm had moved into Fairview.

"Bree?"

Orson found her in the kitchen, looking desolate.

"What's wrong?"

In no time, she'd rebuilt those walls of her fortress. "Oh, nothing. I just, uh, I thought maybe someone would be home when I got here. I've been alone a lot lately."

"I know how that feels."

"Do you?" Bree wondered if he really knew what it felt like to be all alone, to draw strength from your own broken spirit in hopes of fixing those imperfections in your environment. To be so alone you hear the ghosts of happier times laughing at your wretched state. Did he really understand her plight?

"I do. There are times that I leave the television on while I do housework just so there's noise. I come home to an empty house, such as this one, I eat my dinner alone and I clean up alone and I go to sleep alone. There's no one to talk to about my troubles, there's no one there to offer support. But Bree, I admire you and you know why?"

Slowly, she shook her head.

"It's easier to deal with loneliness when you're expecting to be lonely because you are painfully aware that you have the support or love of absolutely no one, but it's much harder to come home to a husband and daughter who treat you with cruel indifference and give you the cold shoulder when all you want is for them to show you some affection and you wait each and every day for the off chance that you'll get it."

Again, Bree shook her head. "No, that's not the way it is. They love me, I know they do." Her appearance betrayed her words when her face reddened and a sheet of tears clouded her eyes.

"I don't doubt that for a minute, but love isn't suppose to be lonely. You're a wonderful lady, Bree. I hate the fact that any moment now you're going to burst into tears. What's wrong? Is Rex not coming home tonight?"

Angrily, she wiped the tears that threatened to spill over onto her cheek. "No, he's going to be away for a few days."

She didn't want to talk about this with Orson, but he was so easy to talk to. Strong emotion jeopardized her ability to make sound decisions regarding what was appropriate and inappropriate to discuss with him. Many things were going through her mind--hate, rage, yearning, sadness–and Orson was like a faint light amid thick fog. Soon, her tongue began to pine for a drop of the liquor hidden under her car seat.

"And those tears are because he's not here and you feel lonely or because you know when he comes back you'll still feel lonely?"

Thunder rolled in the sky above them.

"Orson, I'm very tired, so very tired... Thank you for the coat and for the ride home, but I'd like to go to bed now. I'm so tired..."

"Tired of what, Bree?"

"I'm just tired, Orson. Please go home," she implored wearily.

"You're tired of being alone aren't you?"

"No..." she answered quickly, all to quickly for Orson. His question seemed almost like badgering to Bree, but in all truth, he was worried about her. He didn't want to leave her in that state.

"Admit it. You're sick of being alone, waiting for someone to care about you, waiting for his company, all the while knowing it's never going to happen."

"Just stop, Orson. Just... stop..."

"No! And you know why? Because I care about you. You don't have to be alone, but you put yourself in the position of being everyone's doormat! God, don't you know there are people that love you and care about you? Why are you content to sit here and let Rex Van De Kamp walk all over you??"

"Orson!" she sobbed. "Please stop!"

Stepping toward her he tried to embrace her, but she furiously pushed him away. Undeterred, he enclosed her with his arms and held her gently.

"It's not like that," she wept into his shoulder. "You don't know Rex. You can't judge him!"

"It's obvious you're miserable, Bree. And I wasn't around last year when Rex left you and I don't know all the details, but if he made you happy, you wouldn't be crying right now."

When the thunder shook the walls of the house yet again, Bree peered up into Orson's attentive eyes and was lost. She didn't know anything anymore. All she knew was that she wanted to feel again. She wanted someone to take care of her. Most of all, she wanted someone that wanted her. It didn't matter who it was.

Orson made no move, but he didn't have to as Bree placed a hand on the back of his head and guided it to her own. It was she who found his lips with her own. The kiss which began soft and ambivalent turned to something ferocious. Bree was a forceful initiator motivated by all the wrong reasons and acting on delirious impulse. It didn't take much persuasion to get Orson to return the kiss once he deduced she wasn't merely teasing him. Brushing aside Bree's damp hair and placing his hands on either side of her face, he took control, forcing Bree into the more submissive role of recipient of his affections. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, giving him all the access he would need to lavish her face and neck with kisses. Instead of warmth that was usually generated in Bree by these types of sexual interludes, there was nothing but a dullness that settled in the lowest depths of her stomach. No matter how fervid she made her kisses or how pruriently she used her tongue in an attempt to heighten her arousal, she couldn't let go of the anchor that kept her grounded.

In two short strides, Orson managed to pin Bree against the wall of the kitchen. There was no escaping for her now, but she wasn't sure she wanted to escape. Fumbling with the buttons on the overcoat he lent Bree, Orson tried to tear them open for better access. She stood there motionlessly letting him use her body, hoping he would somehow make her feel something. For better support, Bree placed her hands on his shoulders for a better grip and that's when she noticed something glittering faintly in the light. Her wedding ring. At Rex's "burial", she threw her wedding band into his "grave", but unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, she hadn't worn her wedding ring that day, having chosen to take it off upon the news of Rex's "death" for mourning purposes. As Orson kissed and bit at her neck and shoulder, she gazed at her ring, remembering when her husband had first slipped it on her finger and how he liked for her to keep it on as they made love. With a little effort and closed eyes, she could recall several of those romantic scenes.

Without warning, Orson slipped a hand inside the coat and cupped her breast causing her to intake a bit of air in a piercing gasp, afterwards releasing the small intake of breath with a low moan. Rex used to ever so deftly caress her breasts, saying they were his favorite part of her body. She loved the desirous bordering crazed look that came across his face when he removed her clothing and discovered them ready to receive his undivided attention–like a kid in a candy store. Lips found their way to a spot just under her jaw line at her ear and began to suckle, causing her to moan once again. To her joy, a seed of feeling began to grow.

After pushing away the left side of the impeding coat, hands found her other breast and began to stroke it roughly. The coarseness was a sharp contrast to the smooth kisses with which he showered her skin. Her excitement mounted and she felt encompassed by a shroud of invincibility. She truly loved him! Her heart devoted itself to only one man and she wanted to tell him so. Through all the swirls of bewilderment and disorder that swam throughout her mind, she only knew one truth to be certain.

Once the remaining hindrance had been slid off Bree's shoulders, a tongue teasingly traced the outline of her clavicle. Bree was at the end of her tether, she wanted him. Desperately. Suddenly, everything felt as though it would be all right and she could let go of all her worries. Like a mantra, she repeated his name in her head until like a volcano it erupted from her mouth.

"Reeeeex..."

Upon hearing Rex's name breathed from Bree's swollen, red lips, Orson released her arms from his grasp and her unsupported back fell against the wall. Throwing open her eyes, she realized the man standing before her hadn't been the one occupying her daydreams.

Embarrassed and breathing heavily, she shyly apologized in a voice that trembled with fear, "Orson I–I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say..."

She saw the evidence of hurt in his eyes, but amongst the hurt she also saw a flicker of understanding.

Emitting a sad smile, he countered as his own breathing rushed to slow down, "It's ok, Bree. I pushed you too hard. I guess I took advantage of your fragile state. I should be the one who's sorry."

"No, it's not your fault. I suppose being alone for so long has taken it's toll. On both of us. Neither of us can blame ourselves for wanting to feel close to another human being."

"You're a good person. And a deserving person. I hope you get what you're looking for." To seal his words, he placed a chaste kiss on Bree's forehead, knowing he'd lost the battle for this woman to a man that wasn't even willing to fight for her.

"I'm sorry for the way things turned out, Orson. Would it be foolish of me to hope that we can remain friends?"

"I'd like that. Though, I must admit, from the moment I saw you, I was attracted to you. It's going to be a while, a _long_ while, before those feelings go away. I can't help but love you, Bree."

Both parties immediately jumped apart and jerked their heads toward the kitchen door when they heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. Horrified, Bree saw her husband standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed. He looked ready to explode.

"Rex," she panted frighteningly, pulling the coat tightly around herself.

"Bree," came a blunt, clipped reply.

"Rex, it's not what it seems."

"I wouldn't expect you to say anything else."

"What do you mean by that?" Bree asked, her blood pressure rising.

"Really, Dr. Van De Kamp, despite how bad this looks, you should let Bree explain."

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell me what to do in my home. And furthermore, I'd appreciate it if you got out of my house!" he bellowed.

To his credit, Orson refrained from tossing a biting remark Rex's way and simply walked out the kitchen. When he heard the front door shut, Rex let in on Bree.

"I told you I'd wait for you to forgive me, that I'd give you time to get over the past, but I suppose this is your answer for me, huh?"

"No, Rex..." she tried to say.

"All you had to do was tell me to get out! But you went behind my back! Were you even going to tell me about this?!" he shouted, walking towards Bree.

"I made a mistake, Rex, but it's not what you think!"

"Then what should I think?!"

I don't love Orson, I love you! And I forgive you!" There, she'd said it. She'd gotten it off her chest and it was out in the open for Rex to do with what he pleased.

"Yet I walk in here and find you in the arms of another man. Forgive me (again) if I don't believe you!"

"You've got to believe me, Rex. I was just so lonely. I decided tonight that I didn't care anymore about what happened in the past. It's over and done and I want to move on. I planned on telling you tonight, but you were gone. I was so lonely, Rex. I just wanted you! I love you!"

"You have a funny way of showing it, Bree." Shaking his head, he exited the kitchen.

"Where are you going??" asked a panicked Bree.

"I'm packing some things and I'm going to a hotel."

"Rex, no! You've got to listen to me!"

"No, I don't. Our marriage was over even before I left last year. It was so damned foolish to think we could save it when I came back.."

"Dammit, Rex, turn around and look at me–listen to me!"

"No, I'm through listening to you."

Wailing uncontrollably, she followed Rex into her bedroom closet where he started taking out shirts, jackets and trousers. He was so infuriated with his wife he couldn't see straight, but what Bree couldn't possibly have seen on the outside was Rex's pain in thinking she had betrayed him. Once the closet had been raided, he moved to collect his socks and undergarments and ties from the bureau drawers.

"I'm sorry! I don't know what else to say. Please don't leave, Rex! I don't know what I'll do without you! I can't stand losing you again!"

"I'm sure you'll find something to do, such as finish off the liquor you have hidden in your car," he barked heartlessly.

"Don't go, please don't go..." she mouthed almost inaudibly. Bree knew she was losing. Rex was slipping away from her and there was nothing she could do about it.

When everything had been packed, he carried the luggage down the stairs as the lightning flashed ferociously outside, illuminating the house inside, all the while Bree trailed him, clutching the coat at the throat in an attempt to keep herself covered.

"If you walk out that door, Rex Van De Kamp, you'll not walk back through it!" she hissed between her tears.

Ignoring her, he placed his hand on the door knob and turned it.

"Rex, don't walk out that door!" she screamed from the hallway.

He turned around to look at her one last time, his face was emotionless, his heart, however, drowned helplessly in all the feelings he carried inside.

"Please don't walk out that door..." she begged, but he was gone. She heard him start his car and drive away. He wasn't coming back.

Her crying stopped and the world around her was quiet save for the rain outside. After all the crying she'd done since Rex had been back, she thought maybe she'd cried her final cry. Numbness spread over her and before long she was emotionally frozen, feeling neither sadness nor happiness, love or hate. She really was all alone now and she dealt with it the only way she knew how.

_Later that night... _

"Andrew? Andrew?!" Danielle cried frantically into the phone as she paced the floor in her mother's bedroom. "Andrew, you've got to come home! Now!" ... "Mom's passed out and she won't wake up! I've tried everything!" ... "I don't know what's wrong with her and I don't know what to do!" ... "I tried to call Dad, but he's not answering his cell." ... "Please Andrew, hurry! Please, please, please hurry..."


	5. And I Will Mend My Soul In Time

**Rating:** PG 

**Author's Notes:** Thank you, dear readers, for following this fic. I heartily appreciate the time you take to read something I've written.

The chapter title is a lyric taken from the James Blunt song Goodbye My Lover. Though when I was writing it, I was listening to Damien Rice's song 9 Crimes. Wow, I don't think I've ever cried so hard while writing, but in writing the last three paragraphs of this story, I was almost destroyed.

* * *

_And I Will Mend My Soul In Time_

"Good morning, Mrs. Van De Kamp. How are you feeling?"

Bree's eyes fluttered open and bit by bit, her blurry eyesight focused just enough that she could see a woman standing to her right. She most certainly realized that she couldn't possibly be in her own bed at home as the mattress was rather uncomfortable and unsupportive of her back, but she couldn't pinpoint exactly where she was. And those lumpy, hard pillows weren't doing anything for her splitting headache.

"I feel fine," she mumbled as the sleep retreated from her semi-awakened mind.

"That's good. I'm just going to take your temperature and get your blood pressure. You don't have to move at all; you're fine where you lay."

Why this lady needed her blood pressure and temperature was beyond Bree. Dutifully, she lifted her arm slightly so the woman could slip the cuff around it. The headache she had was unbelievably painful, like someone had taken an anvil and dropped it on the back of her head. She felt rather strange, like she should remember something, something important.

"Your blood pressure is perfect, Mrs. Van De Kamp. Now I'm just going to put this in your ear to take your temperature and then we'll be finished."

It had just occurred to Bree that it might be a good idea to ask this person just who she was and why she needed her stats. Any why exactly wasn't she home in her own bed!

Mildly more alert to the point that she was able to collect her wits about her and start applying logic to her situation, she inquired of the woman, "I don't think I've met you before. Who are you?"

The lady was smiling when she replied, "My name is Liv and I'm your a.m. nurse."

Naturally, the worst scenarios popped into her mind. Panicked, she shot up in her bed, though she would instantly regret it as her aching head began pounding and the room around her spun at such a rate that the only consolation was to close her eyes. It helped somewhat, but it didn't prevent her from feeling like her eyes were rolling around uncontrollably behind their lids.

"Where am I??" she implored distressed and concerned as to why she wasn't at home.

"Relax, Mrs. Van De Kamp. The doctor will be in here in just a few minutes and she'll be able to answer any questions you might have. Just sit back and relax." When she finished writing up Bree's chart, Liv told her that she'd be back at a later time to see how she was doing.

A quite impatient Bree fastidiously watched the hand of the clock that hung on the wall of her room move precisely fifty-one minutes before she was graced with the presence of a young female doctor. Irked that a few minutes had turned into fifty-one, she wanted answers and now!

"Hello, Mrs. Van De Kamp. I'm Dr. Cohen. Do you remember anything about last night? About how you got here?"

"No," she started hesitantly. Had something terrible happened? Had _she_ done something?

Dr. Cohen scanned Bree's chart and informed her, "Well, it seems your daughter found you unconscious in your bed and so she had someone bring you here given your history."

"What history?" Her heartbeat sped up as anxiety settled in. What had these people been told about her?? Still, she wasn't understanding what was going on. For God's sakes, why couldn't the doctor get to the damn point!

"It looks here that you voluntarily checked yourself into our facility about a month ago. Also, the check-in attendant was told that you had a history of alcoholism."

"I most certainly do not. I couldn't imagine who would tell such lies!" Bree gasped incredulously as it dawned on her that she was once again at Fairview Psychiatric Hospital.

The doctor once again glanced at the chart. "Hmmm, well there's no name on here as to who said what. It just says that a female who identified herself as your daughter and a male accompanied you here. They gave the attendant as much information about you as they knew."

Instantly, she knew who the "unidentified male" was. Rex. If she'd had a mirror, she swore she would've seen smoke coming from her ears. What on earth was he up to?

"For your information, I'm not an alcoholic," she responded in a crisp tone.

"Bree, I don't believe in labels. If you're not an alcoholic, I believe you. But you're here for a reason and I'd like to help you find out why. I'd like to meet you in about two hours so we can talk and introduce ourselves. Go ahead and get ready, take a shower, brush your teeth, do whatever it is you need to do and I'll have your nurse escort you to my office. It seems that whomever checked you in last night had packed a bag for you. You'll find it in the closet."

Before Bree could say anything else, the doctor was gone, leaving her with more questions than answers. So, Rex was trying to lock her away. The extremes he would go just to punish Bree was ridiculous. As she showered, bits and pieces of the previous night began popping into her mind. She could recall talking to Orson and then Rex coming home and catching them in the kitchen. Then in her mind's eye, she saw herself running after her husband, begging him not to leave her.

"_I'm sorry! I don't know what else to say. Please don't leave, Rex! I don't know what I'll do without you! I can't stand losing you again!"_

"_I'm sure you'll find something to do, such as finish off the liquor you have hidden in your car..."_

The thunder rolled and the lightning flashed in her head and she saw herself retrieving the bottle of wine from her car and drinking it as she looked at old photo albums chock full of pictures of Rex and Andrew and Danielle–her family, her loved ones. There wasn't much she could remember after that. It wasn't clear at what point she'd fallen asleep, but she wished to God that Danielle hadn't found her. Her baby must've been so scared when she couldn't rouse her mother. At any rate, at least her father was there for her and she didn't have to accompany her mother to the hospital alone. She would be lucky not to find Danielle missing when she returned home. When she thought of the enormous burden she'd inflicted on her little girl, she was filled with tremendous guilt.

But surely drinking a little too much wasn't incentive enough to lock someone away in a psychiatric hospital! Sure, she'd been a little careless last night when it came to the wine and maybe she shouldn't have had that much to drink, but it wasn't illegal to do so! And it was her husband who left her in such an overwrought state! Rex was a doctor, when he found her in the bed, he should've known that she was ok and left her alone. It was a sure thing that she would be released as soon as she met with the doctor. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her.

The meeting with the doctor started off with a handshake and a friendly enough greeting. The doctor told her about herself then asked Bree to do the same. As prim as ever, Bree answered each question cheerfully–that is until the doctor ventured into a touchy subject.

"Tell me, Bree, what do you think makes an alcoholic?"

Taken aback, she sniffed indignantly, "Well, certainly not me! I don't even know why I'm here. Just because my husband calls me an alcoholic, suddenly I'm locked away in here??"

"That's not exactly what I asked. Let me rephrase the question: what qualities do you possess that would differentiate you from an alcoholic?"

Still miffed, she answered, but a little less pleasantly. "I don't lay around all day, everyday drunk. I don't steal from other people to buy alcohol I can't afford."

All the while that Bree talked, the doctor scratched her pen rapidly in her yellow notepad. "So, tell me about last night."

"I wasn't feeling well. I couldn't sleep so I had a couple of drinks to help me fall asleep. I don't do it every night."

"Why weren't you feeling well?"

With her lips drawn in a taut line, she responded airily, "I haven't the slightest idea. Why don't most people feel well??"

"Had you spoken with or seen anyone prior to feeling ill?"

"Yes, but that had nothing to do with it," she blatantly lied. Her business was nobody else's business. She didn't share her problems with the rest of the world. They were private, for her alone to deal with. However, the doctor noticed that Bree was very quick to justify her actions. In her attempt to seem like a perfectly fine, healthy human being who was wrongly admitted to a psychiatric hospital, she was failing to convince her doctor.

"Tell me about your family."

Bree sat up a little straighter and readjusted her poise. "My daughter's name is Danielle. She turned seventeen a couple of months back and I'm dreading her going off to college and leaving me," she laughed lightly. "She gets such good grades in school, I doubt she'll have trouble getting in any college she applies to.

"I also have a son, Andrew."

"Tell me about Andrew," Dr. Cohen prodded curiously.

"He was on the swim team in high school and he's my eldest child. When he was born, his umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck. I was so scared. I thought I'd lose him. However, everything turned out to be fine."

"Are you married?" Bree bristled, though she hoped the doctor hadn't noticed. After all the deplorable, despicable things he'd said to her last night, for all she cared her dear husband could rot in hell while maggots ate his flesh.

"Yes."

"What's his name?"

"Rex."

"Describe Rex."

"Rex is..." What was there to tell really? She really didn't want to discuss Rex, but if she didn't discuss him, the doctor would know something was wrong. If she lied through her teeth, which is what she was adept at doing having done it all these years, she'd have to force herself to say nice, affable things about a man that deserved her outright scorn. "Rex is a devoted, caring father." Behind the smile plastered on her face, she inwardly cringed.

"And husband?"

"He's a good husband, too." She knew her answers were clipped, but unlike before when she could make up things to make a murderer seem like angel, it seemed harder to lie now.

"What makes him a good husband?"

"He's always worked hard to see that his family was provided for. He gave me two wonderful children and twenty blessed years of marriage."

"Have you had any marital problems recently?"

Inwardly, Bree scoffed and rolled her eyes, outwardly, she was all smiles and sweeter than one of her homemade chocolate chip cookies. "Heavens no! I mean, we have our little disagreements, but nothing major.

"Dr. Cohen, I'm going to be honest with you. I don't belong here. I don't know why I was brought here because I'm clearly not an alcoholic and I don't really see the need for this interrogation."

The doctor stopped writing on her yellow pad of paper and looked Bree in the eye. "I like to get to know all my patients, that's why we're here right now. If I may ask, what would make someone say that you're an alcoholic if you're clearly not one?"

"I don't know. Someone made it up..."

"Such as... ?" Dr. Cohen waited patiently for a response.

"I don't know! I don't know why anyone would say such an awful thing about me!"

"Is it such an awful thing for someone to be an alcoholic?"

"Yes. Alcoholism is merely a lack of self-control."

"Do you think you showed a lot of self-control last night?"

"I told you, I just had a couple of drinks to bring on sleep. I've been a light sleeper as of late..."

"So, then it should've been easy for your daughter to wake you up. But it wasn't. She said she physically tried to wake you several times but that you were unresponsive."

Biting her lip, she refrained from showing any reaction at the mention of her daughter. She cast her eyes downward. It was only when the subject of her children crept up in conversations did Bree feel vulnerable emotionally. Andrew and Danielle were, literally, her life. It was her body that they'd called home for nine months, that nurtured them. It was she that borne them into the world, fed them milk from her own breasts and attended to their every need. She felt a special bond with them that she'd never felt with anyone else, not even Rex. He'd made a remark once that just because Andrew had spent a few months in her womb didn't mean she loved him more than he did. Maybe, maybe not, but her children occupied a special place in her heart that was reserved for only them and Bree felt she was the only person in the world who understood them completely. So, the thought of her inflicting them with unnecessary anguish made her nauseous. She was suppose to be protecting them, not contributing to their suffering.

"Bree?" Dr. Cohen called her attention back to the issue at hand. They had been in the middle of questioning when Bree's mind began to wander.

Clearing her throat, she answered the doctor, "Yes?"

"What were you thinking about just then?"

"Oh, the rain. It's sounds so peaceful, don't you think?" she sighed as she gazed outside thought the office's window.

"Are you afraid your children are going to leave you?"

"What??" Bree exclaimed, thoroughly shocked by the nature of the question, or rather by the insinuation. "Nonsense. Why do you ask such a thing?"

"When I asked about your children, you said that Danielle would be going off to college and that you're dreading it and that you were afraid of losing your son at birth because he had a cord wrapped around his neck."

"I'm sure every parent has the same fears that I do."

"Does your husband?"

"I–I don't know," she faltered. The question had caught her off guard and she didn't have time to fabricate an answer.

"Why do you worry about your children abandoning you?"

"I don't worry about them abandoning me..."

"How do you think your daughter will react when you return home?"

Shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders, Bree didn't know how to answer the that. She really wasn't sure what Danielle would do or say. There was a chance, though, that she had at last irrevocably damaged her fragile relationship with her daughter. It was already hard enough trying to assert her parental authority over her strong-willed child and it would be difficult to try and act like a parent when it was Danielle who had to care for her mother during one of her "episodes". Would she run away again? Would she use the incident to justify misbehavior, saying if she was adult enough to look after her mother and get her to a hospital the she was adult enough to do as she wished?

"I'm not sure how Danielle will react. That's what scares me," she admitted.

"What are some of her past reactions? Does she tend to keep her feelings inside or does she act out?"

When it came down to it, Bree would do anything for her children, even if it meant revealing secrets that could destroy the perception that she had a happy family and perfect life–a facade that she'd tried in vain to maintain all these years. In all truthfulness, Bree didn't think that Danielle would stand for her mother coming home and attempt to act the responsible parent. She would have to prove to Danielle that she was capable of being the same mother who went to the Jennings' house and restored order and prevented her daughter from being raped. Not only did she have something to prove to her daughter, but to her son, as well.

A lump formed in her throat at the thought of Andrew. It was the longest she'd ever been away from him. There was a sorrowful longing inside her that had formed the day she dropped him off. A day hadn't gone by that she'd hadn't thought about what he was doing or where he was at and if he was ok. If she'd had any inkling as to his whereabouts, she would've dropped what she was doing and set out to fetch him. If he ever decided to come back home, how could she expect him to show her respect and love her when she'd so easily shoved him off in the world to fend for himself? How could she have done such a thing?!

"Bree, what are those tears for?" Dr. Cohen grabbed a couple of tissues and walked over to sit down beside Bree. Bree took the tissues and gingerly dabbed her eyes with them. It took her a while to speak as despair consumed her. Her chest felt tight and her stomach was weak, exacerbated by the fact that she had just come to terms with the fact that she'd lost her husband, too. For a second time, even. It seemed that all her life, no matter how hard she endeavored, those closest to her deserted her, starting with her mother who, through no fault of her own, left her child to clean her blood from the street. But there was hope for her children, wasn't there? There was still a chance that she could regain their confidence. It might take a while and a lot of work, but she could do it. The only consolation in losing Rex was that she wouldn't, and couldn't, lose Danielle or Andrew.

"Ok, Dr. Cohen, I've changed my mind. I'm going to stay here, for a few days anyway, because there are some things that I need to work out and I could use your expertise."

Shocked at the sudden change in her patient's demeanor, she was a bit delayed in answering, "That's good, that's very good. The first step to getting help is to admitting that you need help. You've made a good choice today."

"I need to do this for my children. I've already lost my husband and on some level, I've lost them, too, but I'm praying it's not too late for Andrew and Danielle and that me being their mother means _something_ to them."

Hurrying back behind her desk, the doctor grabbed her pen and paper and prepared to write a plethora of notes.

"I'm curious, what is causing you to fear losing your children?"

"Because I've already lost my son and my daughter ran away from home a couple of months ago."

"Is that why you checked yourself into the hospital?"

"Partially. It's also the reason why I left."

"What are some other reasons?"

"Rex left me all the sudden in May of last year. Then right before I entered the hospital, Andrew... well, Andrew–actually,_ I _abandoned _him_."

Dr. Cohen nodded in comprehension; pieces of the puzzle were finally beginning to come together. "So, it sounds like you've had to deal with a lot of abandonment issues in your immediate family. When was the first time you felt abandoned?"

Against the backdrop of the soft rain falling unassumingly outside and the dimly lit office of Dr. Cohen, Bree took herself back to that horrible day that she swore she'd never think about again. There, in the street of her childhood home, a little girl with the same flaming red hair scrubbed at the concrete in earnest, struggling to remove the blood that had dried there. It had only been a few hours since her mother had been picked up off the street, her life swiftly taken by a hit and run driver. That was her first memory of being truly alone. For years she'd carried the guilt of hating her mother for leaving her with a father who was soon to be whisked away by a cold, undemonstrative woman who would become her step-mother.

At this point, Bree carefully avoided the eyes of Dr. Cohen, preferring to concentrate on the rain. Absentmindedly, she added, "Rex wanted to give Danielle my mother's name, but I wouldn't let him. It would've been too painful."

"Tell me, what made Rex leave last year?"

Bree thoughtfully contemplated her reply and delayed responding for several minutes. It would be hard to bare the things she'd kept hidden for so long, that have been so ingrained in who she had become, that it would be nothing less than painful to purge it in order to become the person she needed to be. For her kids, though, she would go to hell and back. And at one time, she would've done it for Rex, too. Uncomfortably, she eventually freed a decade-old deeply buried truth which marked the true beginning of her recovery.

"He left because I became someone he didn't know. I'm not the person he married. That person burned toast and washed the reds with the whites. I deserted him first. Do you know what it feels like to be consumed with so much love for someone and devote your whole life to him but at the same time be afraid to wake up one day and find that he's gone, like so many others in your life?? Purposely, I suppose I diverted my attention from him and onto other things like housework and crafts and baking--things that were constant, things that I could fall back on when Rex left. Gradually, I withdrew from him, but it was only to save myself. So, really, it was I that drove him away.

"Now, since you've got the story out of me, I would like to go back to my room. I'm rather tired."

Dr. Cohen nodded, but Bree didn't see it as she was already out the door and on her way to her room.

* * *

At Fairview Psychiatric Hospital, patients weren't allowed to have visitors the first forty-eight hours upon being admitted. Bree didn't want any visitors whatsoever and specifically instructed her nurses to turn away anyone who came to the hospital wanting to see her. Her current state of mind wasn't quite up for receiving visitors who would come bearing unspoken questions and accusations. Her demons were her own and it hurt her to think that she was a burden to her family and friends. Her step-mother had taught her to keep up appearances and to maintain a stiff upper lip for propriety's sake. Those who spoke of their problems were weak. It was difficult enough for Bree to admit that she was a failure to herself without letting everyone else know about her shortcomings. Obstinately, she secluded herself in her room and kept herself busy with solitary activities. If she stayed productive and active, then perhaps it would take her mind off the fact that she was confined to a psychiatric facility. Sometimes she genuinely appreciated being removed from her problems and welcomed the peace the hospital afforded her. Though the doctor has suggested that she receive a few visitors, Bree flatly refused. She didn't want anyone to see her this way. There was one person, though, whose volition was more stubborn than that of Bree's.

"Mrs. Van De Kamp?" a nurse entered Bree's room one afternoon as she was knitting in a chair in the corner by her window.

Bree was startled by the unexpected interruption. Her days were normally quiet and private. "Yes?"

The young female nurse hesitated, "I know you told the staff that you didn't want any visitors, but there's someone who wants–or should I say 'demands'–to see you."

"Just tell them to go away."

"We tried Mrs. Van De Kamp, but she's determined that she won't leave until she sees you."

"I told you that under no circumstance do I want to see anyone–"

"I know, I know, but this is an exception. If you don't see this person, we'll have to call the police and we would rather you try to talk sense into your guest rather than have the cops forcibly remove them from the property."

In her mind, she ran through a list of the people who could possibly know she was here and want to visit her. Still, she couldn't begin to guess who was waiting to see her.

Sighing, she relented, "Ok, show whoever it is in here."

Because Bree wasn't on suicide watch and wasn't considered a threat, she was given privileges which included guests in her room. Laying her knitting needles on the bedside table, she nervously awaited the pending visitor. All that she asked was that it not be Rex or Danielle because at the moment she was still severely angry with her husband and she couldn't face her daughter.

God must've been listening to Bree that day because the person who popped through her door was none other than Lynette Scavo.

"Hi honey!" Lynette greeted her friend brightly. She bounced over to Bree and enveloped her in a warm hug which a stunned Bree didn't immediately return.

"Lynette, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I'm really not up to seeing anyone right now."

Lynette sat down in the other chair opposite the one Bree had vacated just a couple of minutes ago and dug around in her purse. "Don't worry, they only gave me an hour. Bring that coffee table over here and sit it between us. Up for a game of Blackjack?"

"Not really," said Bree as she moved the table to Lynette's designation.

When Bree sat down, Lynette began dealing the cards, ignoring Bree's subtle pleas to be left alone. Casually, she struck up a conversation as though they had been sitting on her front porch rather than a psychiatric hospital. "I saw Susan yesterday. Mike's still doing the same, no changes. She so desperately wants to find who hit him and make them pay. I'd probably want to do the same if I were in the same situation. Actually, I think I'd rather be the one in the coma. I'll tell you, having five kids running around the house all day long is draining. I could use the break," she laughed.

"Did I tell you her house is going to be rebuilt? She's going to be meeting with a contractor next Tuesday and they're going to go over some plans. She's excited to be getting out of that RV.

"Gaby and Carlos aren't doing much better. He moved into an apartment across town, but he went over to Gaby's the other night to get something and I don't know what happened, but he was running out the front door with Gaby behind him screaming and threatening to kill him. Everyone in the neighborhood heard them! I think Mrs. McClusky called the police because they pulled up not more than five or ten minutes after the fight moved out into the street. One of the cops had to physically pick Gaby up and separate her and Carlos.

"And, of course, Nora has struck again. Everywhere I go, there she is. Tom and I can't do anything with the kids without her tagging along. She actually followed us to the park the other day and we couldn't play with the kids because she was taking Tom's attention away from them by bending over in her short skirt or joining in the games. You know, for the first time in my life I really wished I could get physically violent with someone else, but surprisingly it wasn't at Nora, but Tom! You'd think he'd step up and be a man and tell her that we want to be a family with Kayla and not with her! I wouldn't mind if Nora joined us every once in a while if it relates to Kayla, but it's like she's trying to be the sixth child and let me tell you, I wasn't even expecting to have four and five is pushing it. Six is unnegotiable!"

Touched, Bree wordlessly got up and went over to Lynette and threw her arms around her friend.

"I know what you're doing," explained Bree in simple gratitude. "Thank you."

Lynette grinned coyly, "I have no idea what you're talking about, Bree. Get back in that chair and play Blackjack like a woman."

The uncertainty with which Lynette had visited her friend evaporated as soon as she had extracted a smile from Bree's hollow face. She didn't know how Bree would react because Lynette knew she wouldn't have wanted any visitors. All she wanted to do was let Bree know that she had a friend who would wait for her and support her no matter what happened.

As Bree picked a card up from the pile that lay in the middle of the table, she inquired of Lynette, "So, how exactly did you convince the powers-that-be to see me? I told them that didn't want to see anyone."

"I know. You're a hard person to get in touch with, but Lynette Scavo has her devious ways. After all, I have three boys and Nora at home to learn from."

"And they just let you in here?"

"Well, I did tell them I'd kill myself if I didn't get to see you. I figured since they work in a psychiatric setting they know better than to take that kind of threat lightly."

"Lynette, you didn't! They–they might think you're crazy or... or..."

"Or a distraught girlfriend..." Lynette offered with a wink. The two women then dissolved into a fit of giggles. Bree held her stomach she was laughing so hard. She couldn't believe Lynette would say something like that!

Once the ruckus faded, Bree asked her friend in a more serious tone, "How did you know I was here?"

"Are you sure you want to talk about it?" Lynette countered, concerned that perhaps Bree should think about something else for the time being since she probably reflected on her current situation every minute of every day she was there.

"Yes, I'm sure," pressed Bree.

"The night you were brought here, Danielle stayed with Julie at Karl's house. Susan learned of it when she picked up the girls to take them home. Susan swore to me, Bree, that she didn't tell anyone else because she was certain you wouldn't want anyone to know."

Bree nodded. "Is Danielle with Rex?"

"Yeah. He hurried back from wherever he was the morning after you were admitted to be with Danielle–"

"Wait," she interrupted in bewilderment, "Rex wasn't with me when I was taken to the hospital?"

"No, why?"

"Because my doctor told me that Danielle was there along with a male who gave them my information. I just assumed it was Rex."

"Really? That's odd. Danielle didn't mention to Susan that anyone else had been there with her."

"Oh."

Gleefully, Lynette laid her cards on the table in victory. "Bree, you're going to have to sharpen your skills if you want to play this game with me. I'm already kicking your ass."

During Bree's stint in the hospital, Lynette visited every day, always staying for an hour and always bringing Bree the latest news and gossip from Wisteria Lane and occasionally a chocolate chip cookie that hadn't been devoured by one of the Scavo kids. They'd play a card game or talk or occasionally they'd do both. Not only did she enjoy Lynette's company, but it allowed Lynette an hour away from her brood. It was to Lynette's astonishment when the usually tightlipped housewife began to open up to her, telling her of the problems she'd experienced with her kids and Rex. She didn't go into detail and she didn't spill all of her secrets, just the troubles that were badgering her mind. There were instances in which Bree's doctor session was scheduled prior to visiting hours, and happy sessions were few and far in between, so it was up to Lynette to comfort and cheer her friend, which she did without a word of complaint.

Bree had the arduous task of seeing Dr. Cohen for an hour every day. Despite the fact that at the beginning of each session she initially resisted opening up and exposing her soul to be analyzed and brutally picked apart, she knew she had to surrender her psyche or else be doomed to spend the rest of her life in the hospital or worse, lose the respect and affection of her children. Against her wishes, she'd also started attending AA meetings, though she declined to share her own story. She was vehement in her belief that she wasn't an alcoholic, but Dr. Cohen convinced her that sitting in on the meeting couldn't do her any harm. With the doctor's help, she uncovered deep-seeded problems and fears that had made her want to drink and through therapy, learned how to cope with the issues that were causing hurdles in her life. Before long, she began to feel that a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Her thinking was clearer now, the sadness was for the most part gone and even though she still had a proclivity to ignore issues that caused her extreme discomfort and become dependent upon household chores rather than seeking emotional support, she knew how to recognize the signs of dependency and deal with them on the spot instead of allowing them to build up inside her.

Three weeks to the day after Bree had entered the hospital she was released. Ecstatic, she only wanted to go home and find Danielle and apologize for causing her so much trouble. She recalled the last time she apologized to her and promised things would change and instantly became apprehensive. If Danielle didn't forgive her, she'd be crushed, as she didn't just spend three weeks in the hospital for herself, but for her daughter, too. Perhaps if she talked to Danielle and told her some of the things she'd told the doctor, then maybe she could find forgiveness for her mother one more time. First, however, there was somewhere she had to be.

Although Bree left the hospital feeling differently than she did before she went in, she still hadn't forgiven Rex for the insensitive things he'd flung at her the night he packed and left. In her heart, she knew her marriage had become a catastrophe that she couldn't save. Even Rex had told her that it had ended before he'd left the first time and maybe that was true. Over the last three weeks there had been many a night she'd laid in bed and thought that perhaps she hadn't clung to Rex so much because she loved him, but because she was dependent upon him. It really wasn't fair to hold him back and it wasn't fair to herself, either. The both of them deserved some peace and happiness and so did their children. They'd tried to put their marriage back together, but the fighting callously devoured all the effort they'd managed to put forth. It simply wasn't worth trying anymore. Revenge hadn't entered her mind nor did she want to hurt Rex, but she hoped that by ending such a poisonous partnership, she could put the whole disaster out of her mind and in the past. That's why Bree's first trip out of the hospital was to a divorce lawyer.

It took a few days, but once the papers were drawn up and Rex and his lawyer had been notified, they all met to divide the assets. Unlike the first time the Van De Kamps had attempted divorce, this time around Bree hadn't been so eager for this meeting to take place. She'd wanted all of this to be over so she could start putting it behind her. Without saying a word, they sat perfectly still and listened to their lawyers explain the process and what would happen and how it worked. Every now and then, Bree would sneak a glance at Rex only to see that his thoughts had taken him somewhere far away from the table and the discussion they were suppose to be having with their lawyers.

When it was time to split the possessions, neither husband nor wife said a thing at first. Only when gently prodded by his lawyer to make a claim did Rex say anything at all.

"Take everything, Bree," Rex offered quietly and in a voice that ever so slightly cracked and quavered. "I won't be needing anything." He couldn't quite look at his soon-to-be ex-wife in the face. He appeared beaten down and sleep-deprived, yet disquieted, as though any minute he'd get up and run out of the room.

"No, Rex, you're entitled to half the assets. Please, just take whatever you want," she said just as shakily, wanting him to get mad and say something heinous so that she'd have a justifiable reason to be angry or spiteful... to feel anything other than what she felt at that moment.

Slowly, Rex arose from the table. Bree meticulously noted each of his subconsciously articulated movements and the doleful expression he wore as he tread across the room like a defeated man knowing the end had come but powerless to do anything about it. For the first and last time that day, his eyes met hers and he spoke, masking none of the emotions which unmistakably tormented him. "No. What I want, I can't have." He then walked out the door and was gone. Bree sat motionless and stared at the door. Such an uncomplicated act, walking through a door, yet it was so meaningful.

She tried telling herself that what she was doing was in the best interest of all involved, however three months later when the divorce was finalized, she still hadn't found the closure she so desperately sought. It was now up to time to heal the hurt and pain she carried within her.


	6. Try Not to Remember

**Author's Notes:** Chapter's title is taken from the title of Sheryl Crow's song of the same name.

As always, thank you for reading. I'm glad you're in this for the long haul:) If you have any questions or comments, just leave them in the appropriate areas and I'll try my best to get back with you.

* * *

_Try Not to Remember_

Tuesday, September 19th, came and went as any other ordinary day. And just like any other ordinary day, Bree Van De Kamp woke up extra early to make breakfast for her daughter and to get a head start on the day's chores. There was nothing particularly remarkable about that Tuesday except it was the one day of the week she dedicated herself specifically to cleaning the house and shopping for groceries. Once her prescribed chores had been completed, she filled the remainder of her time by planning parties, putting together the dinner menu for the next two weeks, baking pies for the upcoming church social, making phone calls and giving money to a couple of volunteers that came to her door asking for donations on behalf of the local senior citizen center. She even found time to reward herself once she finished everything on her agenda, however the usual glass of wine had been traded in for a half-hour in front of the television watching the soap opera that had only recently become a guilty pleasure of hers. Nothing whatsoever reminded her that Tuesday, September 19th, was, in fact, something of a milestone. No, the whole day it never dawned on Bree Van De Kamp that she had quietly reverted to being a single woman.

It wasn't until Friday that she received the divorce papers in the mail telling her that she was no longer Mrs. Rex Van De Kamp. Since the curtains had officially closed on one stage of her life, she chose to mark the epochal occasion by exorcizing her house of the phantoms leftover from a past that included heartache and sorrow. Though a typical Friday in the Van De Kamp household consisted of cleaning the rugs and disinfecting the kitchen and bathrooms, she decided to devote the day to ridding any and all momentos of her marriage from the premises. Any pictures featuring Rex were switched out with that of a family member or dear friend, all of his trophies and awards were wrapped in bubble paper and placed carefully in a box and anything else that even remotely caused her to think of her husb–_ex_-husband–was promptly removed from sight.

Electing to embark on the cleansing process in Rex's former office, she began taking down the copious amount of awards that decorated the wall. As detached as she wish she could be from the current task, she couldn't prevent her emotional side from surfacing each time she held a plaque in her hands. She'd told herself not to care and to cast out all sentimentality for her own good, but she was powerless to do so and could only chastise herself for the delicate way with which she brushed the tips of her fingers over his name on one of the plaques she remembered having hung herself. That precise plaque, she recalled, was given to him in recognition of his extensive pro bono work in the Fairview community, rightfully earning the town's recognition and thanks. He'd worked twelve-hour days and six-day weeks in order to provide surgical service to those that couldn't afford it. Bree had been so proud of him and had wept with joy as he walked to the podium to accept his award. It was a rare display of public emotion which hadn't anything to do with appearances, rather it was about the tremendous pride she had in her husband.

Once the awards had been evicted, it was then time for the trophies to go. One by one, she systematically put them away, tucking them thoughtfully into a box and making sure they wouldn't break when moved. Of the many trophies that littered Rex's desk and the tops of several file cabinets that filled the room, there was one in particular that jogged Bree's memory. It was the one Rex received upon winning the statewide Medical Professionals golf tournament, an annual competition held exclusively for the doctors in the state. For years he'd practiced his game awaiting an invitation to compete. When he was finally asked to participate, to everyone's utter astonishment, he emerged the victor after his first tournament ever, beating some of the finest players including the two previous winners. After the awards ceremony wrapped up, he went over to his wife, kissed her and then whispered seductively in her ear (it was very apparent to Bree that Rex was high on post-victory machismo hormones), "What do you say we go home, put the kids to bed early and I'll show you some of my best strokes?"

"Rex Van De Kamp!" she'd laughed and blushed, hoping no one else could hear him.

"How would you like to sleep with a champion tonight, Bree? Maybe we can recreate that hole-in-one that I effortlessly shot on the seventh green," he flashed her a wicked grin, obviously reveling in the age-old, primeval ritual of the conqueror showing off his spoils for the female so he could lure her to his cave and have his way.

Rex hadn't been prepared for Bree's uncharacteristic answer when she gave it, but just as ancient cavemen secured mates for themselves with a club and a grunt here and there, he had successfully reeled his normally kempt and reserved wife in with a trophy and a few bad golf puns. He didn't discount the manly way the sweat trickled down his face or the way his shirt was sticking to his skin, but somehow he knew the trophy was the key. He'd told Bree later that as long as the bad golf puns worked, he resolved to keep using them until they found themselves in bed panting with their arms and legs entwined. They must've worked because the next thing out of Bree's mouth drove Rex absolutely wild.

"It's a deal, Dr. Van De Kamp, but only if I can be your caddy. I have expertise in handling your equipment that I think you'll find _very_ satisfying..."

In her mind, Bree could still see the way Rex's eyes widened and mouth dropped open. He'd stammered, attempted to say something about a long iron, when he took a step backwards and ended up tumbling down a steep slope into the algae-covered pond of the golf course, somehow chipping a small part of the trophy in the process. Even now, Bree giggled ferociously at that memory. Donning a nostalgic smile on her face, she tenderly beheld the damage to the award inflicted by Rex's raging hormones. It had been ten years, but the memory was as fresh as it if had happened yesterday. Tempting as it was for Bree to keep the meaningful token for herself, she knew she had to dispose of it. The memory was a happy one now, but it would only become painful as she struggled to come to terms with the divorce and the loneliness that would inevitably follow.

It took several hours to pack everything and when she finished, there were five big boxes sitting on the living room floor, waiting to be carted off. It actually hadn't taken as long as she originally anticipated, probably due to Rex dropping by a couple of months ago to clean out his closets, desk and shelves. He refused to take anything in the house, just his necessities. A part of Bree wondered if he'd done so because he didn't want any reminders of his wife or their marriage. She knew he was angry with her. It was she who'd filed for divorce without giving him any warning whatsoever. They hadn't talked from the time Bree was admitted to the hospital until the day they'd met to divide their assets, nothing of which Rex would take. Bree was to keep everything: the house on Wisteria Lane, the house in Aspen, both cars, the joint savings account... The expression on his face as he left the lawyer's office still haunted her and she felt somewhat guilty, but then she recalled his hateful words to her the night he'd caught her with Orson. None of that mattered now, she repeatedly told herself. It was all over and done with. She was divorced and there was no sense in worrying about any of it.

Knowing that Rex would be coming over later that evening to pick up Danielle, she left the boxes where they were rather than put them in the trash. Perhaps he'd want to take them home seeing how they were his things. Typically, when Rex came to get Danielle he waited in the car for his daughter. Secretly, she was glad she didn't have to see him because even though there was a piece of paper saying that she and Rex were no longer bound to each other, her heart said otherwise. She saw their connection in their children who resembled both their parents. Also, she had her memories to remind her they were once a loving, happily married couple and they were filled to the brim with images of Rex and her from their earliest days together to their last meeting. She couldn't simply pack those up and throw them in the trash and at times, that seemed like a good thing for she didn't know if she could ever part with over twenty years of her life.

Once the chores had been tended to, Bree sat down on the couch and enjoyed a cup of tea. The silence was deafening, but she was slowly getting used to it. For a whole year prior to Rex's return from the dead she'd been alone, so it wasn't as though she was unaccustomed to the solitude. However, she hadn't planned on divorce feeling so _empty_. Over the past three months she'd hosted a couple of dinner parties for her friends from Wisteria Lane and she couldn't help but feel a little jealous as she looked around at them: Lynette enjoyed a passionate relationship with Tom, who doted on her, and although Mike was still in the hospital with a coma, Susan technically did have someone to whom she could give her love and attention, and while Carlos and Gaby were having a rocky go of things, deep down, Bree could see there was a tender affection that would always be between them, that transcended any vicious argument or hurtful words and accusations.

As she sipped her tea, she thought about how everything related to Rex occupied a rather small spot on her living room floor. It saddened Bree to think that twenty years of marriage plus an additional four years of dating could be summed up in five measly boxes. In a few hours, Rex would carry them off to his car and he would be out of her life for good. Danielle was seventeen, so it wasn't like she'd have to see him other than for the purpose of updating him on any behavior problems and disciplinary actions or emergencies concerning the kids. If she wanted, she'd never have to see Rex again. She was, in all respects, free.

Suddenly, it hit her, really hit her that she was divorced. It hadn't felt real before, when she was just waiting for the whole process to be finalized. Even when she held the divorce papers in her hands, it was impossible to conceive how it would feel to be a single woman again. But there, in her living room, at exactly four twenty-nine in the afternoon on Friday, September 22nd, Bree bid a tearless good-bye and officially closed a chapter of her life. Still, she wondered if she'd done the right thing by getting a divorce or if she'd been too hasty. Admittedly, everything had happened so fast and before the ink had even dried on the divorce papers, the marriage was over. She cast doubt on her decision of having seen a lawyer to start the proceedings before consulting Rex and she worried as to whether she could've made it work with her husband if they'd stayed married. Her therapist advised her against dwelling on the past, but Bree couldn't help but think about such things, especially when she was reinforced by such silence and loneliness. As she gazed around the room, she saw shadows from a life that had been too brief, scenes that included Rex and she realized no matter how much of Rex's stuff she packed up and gave away, he'd still be with her. There were some things that just didn't fit in a box.

Before she would allow herself to linger any longer in the thick fog of doubt and grief, Bree did the only thing that could take her mind off her troubles: she cleaned. The household duties that were swept aside to allot time for removing Rex-related items from the house were attended to and along the way, she decided that a little deep cleaning wouldn't hurt. When Danielle arrived home from work at seven-thirty that evening, she found her mother in a cleaning frenzy. The vacuum was out as well as the carpet shampooer and the steam cleaner; the furniture had been shuffled around and the air smelled of impeccable cleanliness. Danielle knew that she was probably the only person in the world, save her mother and Andrew, that could smell 'clean'. It appeared that her mother was hard at work and though she used to be content to leave it at that, since her mother had come home from the hospital a few months back, Danielle made an effort to keep an unsuspecting eye out for her to make sure she was ok.

It had taken a lot of forgiveness before Danielle could even speak to Bree again. It hadn't occurred to her exactly how debilitating her mother's drinking problem had gotten until the night she found Bree lying unconscious in bed. Afterwards, she kept her feelings in regards to that incident a secret and hadn't let on to her mom how truly terrifying the whole situation had been. She wasn't much of a demonstrative person, but she did love her mother and, unfortunately, came to take advantage of the fact that her mother was always there when she needed her. It had been her mother who was the constant figure in her life, her touchstone and perpetual source of emotional support. And while Bree was hospitalized for three weeks, the sadness caused by her mother's conspicuous absence turned into hostile resentment. Yet again, it seemed that Danielle had been left to defend herself. Not even Rex's presence could console Danielle's longing for the parent that had been with her since before she was born. The depths and affects of the long-term suffering her mother endured was incomprehensible to Danielle because Bree had always kept her feelings and emotions perfectly well-guarded and in check, never allowing anyone to glimpse of the turmoil that stirred just below the surface. There was never a sign that things had gotten so out-of-hand that her mom could no longer deal with them properly. What upset Danielle so much was that Bree never let anyone know that she needed help and waited until she couldn't handle it anymore and consequently fell apart emotionally. In her heart, she partially blamed herself for her mom's condition. Maybe if she'd paid closer attention to her instead of acting like a stubborn, selfish teenager or maybe if she hadn't been so much of a handful and caused her mother to worry relentlessly or maybe if she'd been at home rather than at the party she'd sneaked off to (she'd lied and told her parents she had to work that night)...

With a lot of love and patience they were working through their problems. Bree gave Danielle space and allowed her to freely vent her frustrations without consequences, which often resulted in taking her daughter's verbal abuse. It was hard telling who ended up feeling the worst because when Bree retreated to her room at bedtime, she frequently lay awake for hours weeping over the awful things Danielle had screamed at her and Danielle, upon hearing her mother crying her eyes out from the other side of the bedroom wall, would feel like an insensitive monster. Deep down, though Bree was doing well at home and had refrained from drinking any alcohol, Danielle still feared losing her mother. The recurrent dreams about Matthew Applewhite's death had abated in the last few months only to be replaced by those in which her mother's death had been a common and persistent theme. She knew those nightmares weren't real and that death in dreams was purely a symbol invented by the cryptic mind to give visualization to one's incognizant fears, however the feelings that lurked longed after she'd been startled awake were anything but symbolic. The unnerving terror she experienced was so horrific that oftentimes she would slip quietly into the bedroom next to hers to make certain that her mother was there, warm and breathing.

When Danielle walked into the living room that night she was relieved to see her mother was getting back to normal and recovering her old ways. She hoped, however, that some old habits were gone, never to vex her mother again. The scene before her was mildly disconcerting because Bree was deep-cleaning, something that wasn't a part of her usual Friday routine. Even Danielle was acutely aware that the last Sunday of the month was reserved especially for deep-cleaning.

"Mom, what are you doing?" she asked, waiting until she heard the answer before worrying.

Bree spun around and upon seeing her daughter, smiled broadly. "Hi honey! Did you have a good day at school and work?"

"Don't change the subject, Mom. What are you doing? You don't usually clean this late and you _never_ deep-clean on a Friday."

At Danielle's tone, Bree sat the feather duster down on a shelf of the bookcase and crossed the room to her daughter. "I was bored, Danielle, that's all. You know how I get when I'm bored."

"Or when you're trying to take your mind off things," Danielle mentioned, bluntness thickly coating every word..

Bree was conscious that Danielle had taken to scrutinizing her every move. As precious and sweet as she found the gesture, it also troubled Bree to think she tormented her daughter on a daily basis with one irreversible mistake of the past. No matter how much she attempted to reassure Danielle that she was all right and capable of handling her problems, the teenager's eyes were always upon her. Every minute of every day since the episode occurred, she wished dearly that it had never happened mainly due to the pressure that was thrust upon her daughter.

Placing a hand on Danielle's shoulder, she rubbed it affectionately. "You don't have to worry about me, you know. I'll admit that I've had some things on my mind today, but it's normal. I'm not going to stray down a path of self-destruction because I think about your father every now and then!"

"Why were you thinking about Dad?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued.

"I received my divorce papers in the mail today."

"Oh. I thought you'd be happy? I mean, people get divorced because they don't want to be married to each other anymore, right? Julie's parents were ecstatic when they divorced."

Bree chuckled faintly, "I'd hardly say I'm happy about being divorced. I think a more accurate description would be 'relieved'."

"Do you miss Dad?"

Hesitating for several seconds, she finally admitted, "I'd be lying if I said no." In all truthfulness, she couldn't envision a time in which she wouldn't miss Rex Van De Kamp.

"Do all these boxes have to do with Dad?" Danielle gesticulated towards the five boxes sitting in the floor.

The expression on Bree's face became more somber when Rex's things were mentioned. "When I cleaned house today, I decided to remove everything that reminded me of him. I guess it's just my own way of trying to move on. I was trying to make it easier on myself, but the more I put away, the more I remembered the old days.

"So, when he comes to get you tonight, tell him to come in and get his stuff."

She gazed thoughtfully at the boxes as if they were coffins encasing the feelings that had long since died. But instead of disappearing completely, the ghosts of those feelings haunted her senses and reminded them of the sensations she'd once felt with her husband–the way she tenderly cared for him when he was sick, the way her stomach would turn into knots when he was up for a promotion, they way her legs trembled when he loved her. As much as she tried to erase any record that Rex was at one time an integral part of her life, there would forever be skeletons of happier times that remained between them. The experiences and anecdotes she carried with her would serve to immortalize the more memorable excerpts from their marriage.

"Are you sure you're going to be ok?" Danielle questioned her mother with a trace of skepticism in her voice.

"As long as I have you, darling, I'll be just fine." Bree pulled her daughter in for a big hug and while Danielle pretended she was embarrassed and too old for such things, she melted into her mother's embrace and enjoyed the warmth and closeness she found there.

"Mom, I'm too old for this," she weakly protested, but it was just to save face.

"Are you too old for brownies, because I was thinking that when you return home on Sunday we could make some."

"Can we have ice cream, too??"

"I think that can be arranged."

"Then no, I'm not too old."

Bree laughed and began peppering the top of her daughter's head with kisses. Forgetting that she was suppose to be an uncaring, surly teen embroiled in adolescent angst, she giggled and managed a squeaky "Stop!" Loathing to admit it, even to herself, she savored her mother's undivided attention and felt once again like the little girl that lived everyday in her mother's shadow waiting to be showered with her affection. Danielle missed the days when her parents' world used to revolve around her and her brother. There had been a brief period of time long ago when her mother hadn't been so icy and distant which previously Danielle could only barely recall, but now all those emotions had been rediscovered.

She was still in stitches when she exclaimed, "Mom, stop, you still have cleaning to do!"

"Oh my goodness! You're right! And your father will be here soon! I can't have him see the house in this shape. You know, cleaning goes faster when there are two people involved..."

"I get the hint," Danielle grimaced. "Ok, I"ll help you, but only on the condition we clean _my_ way."

"Which is...?"

"With music!" Danielle answered brightly. Before Bree could respond, Danielle ran upstairs to retrieve a CD from her room.

"Ok, but don't turn the volume up too loudly! You know how I hate loud music! And that music you listen to is very atonal. Not to mention crude and... bad. Wait, Danielle, what about we just turn on the television?!"

"Don't worry, Mom," she said as she returned downstairs. "The music I picked out is appropriate for any age."

Slipping the disc into the stereo's CD player, Danielle turned the volume up and waited for the music to start. Bree braced her eardrums to be liquidized by that obnoxious music her youngest child listened to, but to her delight, the melody to one of her own forgotten favorites was emitted from the speakers.

_You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life, see that girl, watch that scene_

_dig in the Dancing Queen..._

"Come on! Start cleaning!" her daughter shouted over the song that filled the ostensibly hollow and saddened house with noise. For a while, it seemed that like days gone by, the house would again be enlivened with joy and laughter; at least for one night, anyway.

_Friday night and the lights are low, looking out for the place to go, where they play the right music, getting in the swing, you come to look for a king..._

As ABBA's "Dancing Queen" played continuously courtesy the repeat option, Danielle helped her mother finish cleaning the living room. The catchy tune added an extra spring to the girls' steps. Bree didn't know housework could be so rapturous. Perhaps she'd been going about things the wrong way! Mentally, she made a note that from now on she would clean against a backdrop of music.

_Anybody could be that guy, night is young and the music's high, with a bit of rock music_

_everything is fine, you're in the mood for a dance, and when you get the chance..._

"Hey, Mom, ever dance on top of a table?!" Bree could barely hear anything over the music, but Danielle screamed loud enough that she picked up every word.

"I should say not!" she exclaimed, heartily appalled by the question. Just exactly what kind of person did Danielle imagine her mother to be??

"Never?!" Danielle's facial expression aptly communicated her incredulity. "What is so wrong with you that you never danced on a table?!"

Placing her hands on her hips, Bree stared at her daughter quizzically, "Danielle, when have you had cause to dance atop a table?? Do you know what kind of irreparable damage can be caused by those shoes you wear??"

Rolling her eyes, she took a large step and hoisted herself on the coffee table and commenced dancing.

"Danielle Brooke Van De Kamp, get off that table this instant!!" Bree gasped in horror. Was it possible to be scandalized by your own flesh and blood in the privacy of your own home??

"No! Come on! Get up here!" she stuck her arm out to assist her mother, but Bree was having none of it.

"I will not! Now come down here! I will not have you galloping all over the furniture! It's almost... it's... _offensive_!"

Danielle proceeded to dance while talking to her mother, "Haven't you done anything stupid and pointless just to do it? Just to have a good time??"

_Yeah_, she mused. _There was the time Gaby, Susan and Lynette talked me into skinny-dipping, then we almost got caught by the police and I had to walk alone totally nude to Susan's RV where I came upon Orson who lent me his coat and drove me home._ "Absolutely not." Her terse reply was almost too swift.

"Well, this one time, just trust me and do it!" Once more Danielle extended her hand to her mother. Bree thought that it was downright insane to even contemplate doing such a thing. How could she knowingly and willingly damage perfectly good furniture?? That was such a lovely table, too, made from the finest mahogany...

"God, Mom, stop being so _old_! You're being like Grandma Mason!"

If there was ever a better time to prove your progeny dead wrong, it was at the mention of age and/or a comparison to one's parents. Without giving the matter any more thought, she accepted Danielle's help in getting on top of her beautiful, very expensive coffee table. She prayed it wouldn't collapse while Danielle and she engaged in travesties that were probably far worse than anything ever concocted by Lynette Scavo's boys.

_You are the Dancing Queen, young and sweet only seventeen, Dancing Queen_

_feel the beat from the tambourine, oh yeah, you can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life, see that girl, watch that scene, dig in the Dancing Queen..._

"Need me to teach you to dance?" Danielle offered as she snickered at her mother's obvious uneasiness at vandalizing her own furniture.

"Danielle, it's not like I've never danced before in my life."

As Bree eased up and began moving to the beat of the music, slowly at first then catching up with the rhythm, it was as though she was that carefree twenty-year old again. Throwing her inhibitions aside, she transformed into a different person, of course anyone would be a different person two feet in the air. As long as she didn't look down, she was all right and kept her balance. Her hips swayed back and forth, her hair bounced with her every movement and her arms and hands were in the air. For a while, she stepped back from the crazy world around her to steal unassumingly into her own hushed corner of the universe in which she unwittingly shed her uptight, matronly shell and unleashed the exuberant girl with the coy grin that at one time inhabited her body.

_You're a teaser, you turn 'em on, leave 'em burning and then you're gone, looking out for another, anyone will do, you're in the mood for a dance, and when you get the chance..._

While it was difficult for Danielle to acknowledge her mother's good points, she conceded that she was impressed with her mother's dancing abilities; it made no difference that they were so visibly retro.

The girls danced to their hearts' content unaware they were being watched by a figure that had slipped into the house unnoticed. He had heard the booming music as he traveled up the walkway to the front door and when he entered the house, he enclosed his hands over his ears to protect them from the beating the pounding bass delivered to them. Nothing quite prepared him for what he would find as he made his way into the living room. There he stood, completely and utterly baffled at seeing the usually restrained housewife and mother of two dancing on top of a table. As confused as he was, he was also very amused by it all and was content to watch this hypnotizing sight all night long if Bree hadn't seen him first and screamed in fright. Danielle jumped down and went to lower the volume on the stereo.

"Rex Van De Kamp, you should learn to knock!" she snapped, out of breath from her recent exertion. A rosy blush started in her cheeks and spread down to her neck and chest. It didn't take a genius to know that Bree was highly embarrassed.

"I did. I knocked several times, actually, and I rang the door bell, too. I even announced myself when I walked in the door, but I suppose you were too busy to hear me," he arched his eyebrow suggestively at the stereo. Bree's blush deepened, so much so that she could swear she felt it being branded into her skin. She wanted to disappear, or at least get off the table. She primed herself to take a step down and Rex proffered a hand to help her, however she disregarded it.

"Are you girls having some kind of, uh, party?"

"We were cleaning," Bree asserted obstinately, causing Rex to burst out laughing.

"Come on, Bree, I've never seen you clean like that before!"

"Rex, just shut up." Out of the corner of her eye, she couldn't help but give the table a quick look-see to check for abrasions and scuff marks. From what she could tell, there wasn't anything there that a good coating or two of wood polish couldn't fix.

"Well, Danielle, are you ready to go? I have a surprise..." Rex said once his laughter subsided.

"What is it??" Danielle asked excitedly.

Bree wanted to know what the surprise was, too, but only because she didn't want Rex trying to buy his daughter's affections like the last time they'd separated.

"Go look out the window."

Running over to the window, Danielle threw back the curtains and gushed. "Daddy, you bought a Porsche?? Oh my God! No one owns a Porsche in Fairview! That is so cool!"

"You bought a Porsche?" Bree echoed. Her tone of voice was an Arctic wind, freezing everything in its path, leaving behind a thick carapace of unassailable, unyielding ice.

"Yeah, so?" shrugged Rex. "I let you keep the cars in the divorce. You didn't expect me to walk everywhere, did you?"

Joining Danielle at the window, she happened to see that someone was in the Porsche.

"Did _she_ come with the car??" Bree motioned acerbically at Rex's passenger.

"Not that it's any of your business, but that's Amber Bailey. I've been seeing her for a while and I wanted to introduce her to Danielle tonight at dinner."

"Amber Bailey?! That little trollop who's been throwing herself at you since she was eighteen years old?? Rex, she's half your age!" screeched Bree in disbelief, her anger mounting by the second.

"So? She's half _your_ age, too. We're divorced or didn't you get the divorce papers in the mail today? I'm a free man, Bree, I can date anyone I want to! This time around, I think I'd prefer a woman that can feel, one who's not so preoccupied with being a poster child for Stepford that she's afraid to orgasm during sex because it might let someone know she actually enjoyed it! I'd like a woman who can burn toast and drinks milk out of the carton and doesn't mind it if there's a speck of dust in the house, or a stray shirt laying on the floor. Hell, I wouldn't mind if she had a little dirt under her fingernails, just so long as she's not you!" Rex raised his voice as Bree closed the distance between them to stare him in the face.

Choking back tears of humiliation, she spat bitterly through clenched teeth, "If you want to make a fool of yourself by being seen around town with a twenty-seven year old tart that has been married and divorced three times, be my guest, but I would like to think that you'd keep our daughter in mind before choosing your sleeping partners!"

"Speaking of tarts, have you seen Orson Hodge lately? You know, just last night I was wondering just how many romantic interludes have taken place in the kitchen because quite frankly, it disgusts me to think I've eaten off the counter top when it has no doubt hosted numerous questionable activities..." When Rex smirked, it sent Bree over the edge into a state of total fury. Her whole body shook with venomous hate and she wished she could rip him to pieces.

"Get out of my house!" she screamed and pointed a shaking finger toward the door. Bree wanted him as far from her as possible. The pulsating vein that lay in the middle of her forehead was in immediate danger of popping clear out of her head she was so mad.

"Gladly," Rex muttered just loud enough so that his ex-wife could hear him. "Say, how are your psychiatric appointments going?"

That bastard. "Fine," she retorted. "Seen anymore prostitutes lately?? Other than the one sitting in your car? Do me and your daughter a favor. Try to keep your name out of the little black book this time, ok?"

Both Rex and Bree stalked to the front door, each footstep making a heavy thud. She opened the door and Rex was about to walk through it when he realized he was forgetting one very important thing.

"Where's Danielle?" he asked nonplussed.

"I'm here," she answered. She'd fled upstairs to escape her parents' argument and to get the backpack she packed for the weekend.

"Come on, honey," Rex led her to the door, his hand on her back. "You get to pick the restaurant. Amber's excited about meeting you."

"I already know her," Danielle said. "She came to Prom last year with my friend Jason. He was the reason her second marriage broke up."

It was Bree's turn to smirk.

"Are you going to be ok?" Danielle asked her mother, concerned that her parents' fight would cause her to relapse. Coming home to find Bree in the same shape as last time wasn't appealing in the least.

"Sweetie, I'm going to be perfectly fine. You know why? Because I have Sunday to look forward to," she smiled and hugged her daughter tightly, wishing that Danielle wasn't on her way out the door for two whole days. It wasn't because she didn't want her to go with Rex and his "date", she just didn't want her to leave period.

Bree watched Danielle and Rex get into his new Porsche and before driving off, the son-of-a-bitch actually smiled at her and waved. It infuriated her further when she saw that in the heat of moment she'd failed to remember to have Rex take his boxes. It was very, very tempting to get a voodoo doll and stick pins in it while she arranged the contents of the boxes in a pile and watched them smolder and burn. If it weren't for the fact that she'd have to replace the grass that would unavoidably be damaged by the fire, she would've seriously considered it.

Well, she was alone again. And once again she found herself yearning for a drink of wine. Over the last three months, it wasn't uncommon for Bree to find herself hankering for a taste of what had been forbidden to her, mostly during trying moments from which she got no reprieve otherwise. It had been a stressful day, didn't she deserve something to help her ease her mind? It would only be one small goblet of wine. She could taste it in her mouth now, it's bittersweet liquid quenching her thirst... But she couldn't do it. If not for herself, then she had to fight the temptation for her children. What if she passed out and Danielle once again found her? No, she had to resist the malicious enticement of an escape that was too costly.

But what could she do to take her mind off drinking? Looking around there really wasn't anything to do. She was caught up on her chores. It was too dark too work out in her garden. Desperation had begun to settle in when the phone rang. To her relief, it was Lynette who needed Bree to babysit for all five kids. Bree was only too happy to accept and was eager to get out of the house for an evening.

When she returned home approximately four hours later, she was so exhausted that she went straight to bed. Taking care of five kids was almost unbearable, but because she was Bree Van De Kamp, she had managed rather nicely. She'd kept them busy with some craft projects and she'd made cookies for them and then they all sat in front of the television to watch a movie. Of course, it wasn't as easy as that. First of all, they couldn't decide on which movie to watch. Kayla wanted to watch a Barbie movie and the twins thought they should watch some martial arts movie that looked to be too mature for eight-year old boys. Parker decided that they should watch a Disney movie and Penny screamed for the attention that her siblings were taking away from her. The movie that Bree ultimately chose was "Mary Poppins" which was met with a fair amount of resistance from the kids, but when she threatened them with either being quiet and watching the movie or going to bed, the kids chose to watch the movie. She'd just gotten them to go to sleep when Tom and Lynette returned home.

As she dressed for bed, she thought about her own children and how she would love to be tucking them in right about now. Andrew had been gone for four months now and even though Danielle had only been gone since seven-thirty that evening, she missed her just as much as she did Andrew. They were eighteen and seventeen years old, but she still thought of them as her babies. Where had the time gone? Just yesterday she was reading them bedtime stories and teaching them their ABCs and feeding and bathing them. How she longed to return to those simpler, more joyous days!

Sleep came to swallow her consciousness as soon as her head found the comfort of a pillow. The dreams that accompanied her sleep were unmemorable and harmless and she remained, for the most part, undisturbed in her slumber until she was awoken about one in the morning by the creaky floorboard in her room. Unexpectedly yanked from the clutches of rest, Bree's eyes flew open to see who had breached her solitude.

"Mom... are you awake?" a soft voice whispered, delicately cutting a path through the thick darkness.

Alarmed, Bree raised up, squinting from the light that sneaked in from the hallway and fell upon her face. Groggily, she asked, "Danielle?? Is there something wrong?"

"No, I, um, just wanted to tell you that I'm home."

Not knowing whether it was drowsiness or the inscrutable language her daughter used that was causing her befuddlement, she questioned further. "Why aren't you at your dad's?"

The voice with which Danielle employed to answer her mother was one that Bree didn't care for. It was sarcastic and defensive, however it let Bree know that something was wrong, something Danielle wasn't telling her in so many words. "I guess I just didn't want to stay there this weekend. Is that ok with you?? Because if you don't want me here then I can find somewhere else to go!" Without allowing her mother a word in edgewise, Danielle turned and ran impetuously out of the room. Bree flinched when she heard her daughter's door slam. Immediately, she jumped out of bed, grabbed her bathrobe and trailed to the door next to her own and knocked upon it.

"Danielle," she called gently. No answer. Previous efforts at extracting Danielle from her room when she'd slammed the door, refusing to answer her parents had proven to be futile, but just to make sure, Bree placed her hand on the doorknob and twisted it. Either Danielle had neglected to lock her door or she hadn't meant to lock it because to Bree's surprise, she was able to open the door to see Danielle lying in bed on her stomach.

"Danielle..."

"Go away."

Bree sat down beside Danielle. "Honey, I don't know what happened tonight, but I don't think I deserve to be talked to in such a manner."

Silence.

"You can talk to me."

Danielle still refrained from speaking and a fed up Bree started for the door. Then all at once, Danielle began purging her heart of the things that had caused her to get so upset.

"I wish–I wish that I didn't have to worry about you every time I left the house."

Stopping in her tracks, Bree did an about-face, her expression terribly pained. "Danielle, there's no need..."

"If you could've seen yourself tonight... I saw your face. You were so angry, but you were more hurt than anything. The way you looked at Dad when he said those things to you..."

"It's our fault for fighting in front of you, but I assure you, there's absolutely no reason to concern yourself over me. I'm an adult and I can fend for myself, most of all against your father."

"Yeah," Danielle said dryly. "Like the night I came home and found you passed out drunk."

"We've been over this," Bree sighed, weary of this particular topic of conversation. "I haven't had a drop of alcohol since that night. I won't do that to you again, you have to trust me.

"Is that what's bothering you?"

The teenager turned her gaze away from that of her mother's. "A little bit. That and I really didn't want to spend the whole evening with Dad and his new girlfriend. Ugh."

"Your father does have a right to see whomever he wants, Danielle. As hard as it may be, try to cut him a little slack."

"But, Mom, you saw who it was! Amber Bailey! You said so yourself, she's a slut!" Danielle couldn't believe her mother was actually taking up for her father and that tramp. It was quite a departure from the Bree Van De Kamp that had no qualms about openly displaying her dismay a few hours before. What had happened to the judgmental mother she used to have?

"I know what I said, but I had no right to say them. As your father said, we're divorced and who he chooses to spend his time with is none of my business."

"Yeah, well, _he_ can spend time with her, but that doesn't mean _I_ have to. I don't like her and I'm not going to spend every minute of my time that's suppose to be with Dad with Amber, too!"

"You dad's probably going through a rough time right now, like I am. Don't hurt him anymore by refusing to see him, Danielle. He loves you so much. Have patience with him."

Vociferating her disbelief, Danielle exclaimed, "How can you take his side after all the horrible things he said to you tonight?!"

Deep inside herself, she tapped into the peace that had ultimately replaced the tumultuousness kindled from her and Rex's earlier exchange. It was unclear why she couldn't stay mad at her ex-husband, but there was a part of her that extended to him a breath of compassion and understanding. When the thought of him entered her mind, she could only remember the good times they had and the pleasant feelings she associated with them. The longer they were separated, the more difficulty she had recalling the unhappy memories her marriage had produced. Thus, any long-standing ill-will she harbored incurred by past deeds evaporated.

"People sometimes say terrible things that they don't mean because they're angry or hurt. Your father and I both said some not-so-nice things to each other tonight, but I honestly didn't mean them and I don't believe he did, either. You've said some dreadful stuff, too, when you've been mad. I'd hate to think that you meant every single thing you've ever yelled at me." This caused Danielle's cheeks to redden.

Absentmindedly, she played with a stray piece of string on her comforter, twirling it around her finger as she spoke apologetically. "I yelled at Dad tonight. I was so mad at him for bringing Amber along and for talking to you the way he did. Plus, I think I was so worried about leaving you here by yourself."

"You know what?" Danielle shook her head. "It's one-thirty, but I'm sure your dad's still up. Why don't you give him a call?"

"And say what??"

"Just talk to him, Danielle. About anything: school, boys, work... I'm sure he'll be more than happy just to hear from you."

"I don't know..."

"If you don't feel like having a conversation, at least call just to tell him good-night. A few words are better than none at all."

"Ok... I'll try, but I can't promise that we won't start fighting again."

"Please try to be on your best behavior, Miss Van De Kamp," admonished Bree genially as she planted a kiss on the top of her daughter's head. To give Danielle privacy, Bree exited the bedroom and closed the door behind her. As she trekked from one room to the other, she heard Danielle say, "Hello, Daddy." The trepidation that had borne Danielle's first words soon mellowed and was replaced with the familiar affection that constituted the foundation of their relationship. From the first time Rex had held his only daughter in his arms, he'd looked upon her with pride and unrivaled, consuming love and Bree knew that Rex felt as she did, as though there was an unseen connection between parent and child that was infinite and unconditional. She didn't want Danielle to mistreat her father's love for her out of temporary pettiness that would mean nothing in a few days. In spite of Bree and Rex's feelings for each other, when it came to the children, their differences didn't matter so much. Bree often pondered how Rex got through one year without his children, knowing how he felt about them. She wondered how much pain he suffered being away from them so long, knowing they thought him dead and gone from their lives forever, all due to George Williams's psychopathic obsession with her. Her heart went out to Rex for the year of his children's lives that he missed, that he had to hear about from afar, unable to intervene. Gradually, she came to realize that Rex had just as much right to be as hurt, resentful and enraged as she had been (and still was to a certain extent). They'd both lost so much in that short amount of time.

Returning to the warmth of her bed, she waited for her daughter to finish the conversation with her dad. Knowing Rex, he would be elated to hear from Danielle, especially if the night had went as badly as Danielle had described. One indisputable thing that could be said about her husband was that he loved his children immensely and to think that he'd lost their esteem would devastate him. She understood that Danielle hadn't welcomed the unexpected intrusion into her time with her father, but she certainly didn't condone Danielle's propensity to acquire a disrespectful attitude when confronted with something she didn't like. Her daughter would have to learn to deal with life's lemons in a gracious and mature fashion.

The phone call went on well into the night and soon, Bree found herself straddling the shore of unconsciousness, waking briefly and periodically only to hear the muffled sounds of Danielle still chatting with her father. The last time Bree awoke, she heard laughter emanating from her daughter's room. The thought of Rex and Danielle healing their differences caused Bree to smile serenely as she drifted off to sleep for the rest of the night, not waking up again until sun poked its golden beams over the horizon to light up the morning sky.

The next morning, Bree had just finished clasping her skirt and buttoning her blouse when she heard someone knock at her front door. Whomever it was plainly lacked etiquette as it was considerably rude to call on someone at eight o'clock in the morning. Couldn't they have waited one more hour until nine? Rushing down the stairs at the behest of her unknown visitor, she was interested to see who was paying her a visit so early on Saturday. Briefly looking in the mirror before answering the door, she checked for any out-of-place hair or stray lipstick. Once she decided she was presentable, she opened the front door and received quite a shock.

"Rex? You–you look horrific!" Taken aback by his appearance, her expression soured. He stood on her doorstep wearing a pair of faded jeans and an old sweat shirt. Bree was sure he hadn't shaved since yesterday as the stubble on his face and neck was very noticeable, as were the dark circles under his eyes.

"Thanks, Bree," he remarked sarcastically.

"What are you doing here?" She hoped it wasn't so he could finish their argument because all she wanted to do was forget about it. The denigrating words he'd said to her on top of the mean accusations he'd thrown at her the night he packed up and left still drew tears to her eyes.

Running a hand through his hair, which hadn't been combed, he plucked up his courage and simply, yet sincerely said, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"I know it was you who talked to Danielle. She was so mad when I dropped her off last night, I didn't think she'd ever speak to me again," he confessed.

"Don't be silly, Rex. Danielle's just a teenager. They go through moods like that every now and then. One day they may chat your ear off, the next they're sullen and don't want to be anywhere near you. Believe me, I know," she chuckled, but ceased when she saw the seriousness in Rex's face.

"I want you to know that I'm grateful for what you did and I want you to know, too, that, um, well, _I'm sorry_. I was out of line and I regret everything I said. I guess I'm still angry at you... I don't know..."

An awkward silence passed through the both of them. Bree was left speechless at Rex's heartfelt admission. "You know what? There's a pot of hot coffee waiting in the kitchen. Why don't you come in and have a cup?"

"I'd like that."

Observing her ex as she poured coffee in his mug, she noticed he looked deplorable and downtrodden... and very tired. Something was going on inside him, something she wasn't privy to, but she could see his mind working, knowing he didn't come here just to say "thank you".

"Since there probably aren't going to be many more occasions that we'll find ourselves sitting in this kitchen alone drinking coffee together, can I ask you something that I've been dying to get off my chest?"

Nodding, Bree took a sip of coffee, her eyes never leaving her hus–_ex_-husband.

"Why did you divorce me?" For three months he'd gone around like a lost puppy looking for answers to questions he didn't even know how to ask. Blindly, he let his wife divorce him and he'd been silently compliant through the whole emotional and legal processes, mostly due to his shock and sadness. He hadn't been warned of the divorce and everything happened so fast there hadn't been any closure or time to mourn the loss of his wife. Rex was left feeling broken, not knowing how to fix himself. His heart still ached for Bree every day. If asked, he would be the first to admit that Amber Bailey was just a transparent distraction. No one would ever compare to Bree.

Tilting her head to one side, she facially and vocally expressed her remorse. "The marriage was beyond being saved. I couldn't do it anymore, Rex. My trust in you was destroyed when you betrayed me. My world revolved around you and when you went away, I fell to pieces and no matter how much we tried to patch things up, it just didn't work.

"But you know what? I finally realized something last night that had never occurred to me before. When I thought about how it must've hurt when Danielle shouted at you and demanded to come home, I remembered the way you held our babies for the first time after they were born. How you smiled and cried when you saw them." Choking up, tears flooded to her eyes, but didn't dare spill over onto her cheeks. "And I knew how it must've killed you each and every day you were away from them, all because I got involved with a lunatic..."

"Bree..." Rex tried to interject, but Bree wouldn't let him interrupt her.

"When I think of how much you lost that year you were gone, a year you can't get back because of something I did, I don't see how you could ever forgive me!" she cried, unresolved feelings breaking out of their own hell desperately seeking absolution that would grant them some kind of eternal peace. "To answer your question, 'we' will never work because there's not enough forgiveness in the world to erase all the wrongs we've committed against each other. We can't just forget and we can't just put everything in the past and go on like nothing ever happened! How many times do we have to put each other through hell?? I don't want to feel like this, like I did last night, any more."

"Bree!" Rex tried to reach through the impregnable walls his wife had erected, that echoed the hateful ideas that littered their conversation, in an attempt to shake some sense back into her. When his efforts were proven futile, he burst out of his seat, forcefully grabbed both sides of her face with his hands and crashed his lips into hers. Struggling to escape the firm grip he had on her, she refused to meld into his touch. Only yesterday had she begun to get used to the idea of being divorced; Rex couldn't play with her emotions like this, it was cruel. Her heart was still fragile as glass when it came to him and he was throwing it around like some inexpensive rubber ball, expecting it to bounce back to him. Breaking apart, but only the tiniest bit, to gasp for the air that had been denied to their lungs, Bree whispered against his mouth, "Rex, let me go..."

"Never," he answered raggedly before reclaiming her mouth with his, but she just couldn't return the kiss, not because didn't want to, but because she did.

Standing up, she moved out of Rex's reach when all she really wanted was to pull him close. Terrible agony shone upon her face as tears beaded the corners of her eyes. Why couldn't he understand the reasons why she had to let him go? Did he know how much he was hurting her? The love she had for him was tearing her apart. The affliction she'd carried with her since the first night he walked back into her life divided her soul into two mangled pieces that refused to heal. There was no cure for a broken heart. Time had proven itself a band aid that fell off when submerged in water.

"I'm sorry." The emotional dam that held back the feelings she fought so hard to hide and tuck neatly away into the nether regions of her mind had sprung a leak. Tears began flowing in a steady stream down her cheeks, splashing onto her blouse. Each droplet carried with it a slice of Bree's broken heart.

"Why? Just tell me why." Rex was a man with one finger on the ledge, staring down into the blackened abyss which would soon claim him. Knowing the end was coming, that one finger kept him alive yet warned him of his nearing demise. Somehow, Rex knew the answer to his own question, but until he heard the words leave Bree's mouth, hope of a reconciliation remained, no matter how poor the chances were. It was now Bree's decision whether to wrench that one finger from the ledge or to lend him a hand and help pull him to safety. He waited with bated breath, preparing to be cast down the endless chasm that had no light at its end.

It didn't matter how much she searched her soul for a response to Rex's question, nothing she thought of saying sounded plausible enough to reasonably and adequately satisfy his desire for an answer. In the silence of the kitchen, Bree wept soundlessly, not knowing what to do. Her face contorted with the torment brought about by the unlikely places to which life had led them. Unfortunate choices with unforeseeable consequences had seeped havoc into the lives of its victims, making it seem impossible to ever make another correct decision. Bree was so certain that Rex and she should forge paths in life separately from each other, but then she hadn't anticipated this moment. She longed for the comfort he could give her right now and for a while, she wanted to stop being the strong, cold woman many perceived her to be and seek refuge in his arms. To feel her skin being lavished with protective kisses and caresses as he reassured her that everything was going to be all right was how she wanted to end the present distressing ordeal. Why couldn't there be a happy ending?

_There's still a chance for a happy ending if you're willing to act on impulse and grab it_, a voice from within reached out to her in urgency. A couple of feet stood between her and Rex. Expectantly, he watched her, waiting for an answer he was sure he wouldn't like. The ball was in her court; she had the power to forgive and forget or to say adieu, but either way, there would be issues they'd have to work through. Would love be enough to help them through troubled times? It hadn't been enough before, why should it be any different now? Divorce had been going extremely well until she was confronted with Rex. As long as she didn't have to see him or think of him, she was fine and able to cope, but the very thought of him turned her upside-down and transformed her into a nervous wreck.

When she didn't speak, Rex assumed he knew what that meant and took it as a cue to leave.

"I suppose it really is over then. I want you to know that I'm not angry with you, I could never be angry with you. I'll love you until I die, Bree." With that, he turned to walk out of her house, and her life, for good.

Those words shook her core and the voice inside her, the voice that sounded eerily like her own, screamed, _Go after him!_ Uncharacteristic of the Bree that, in her latter years, lived in a world of black-and-white cut-throat precision when it came to life, this Bree abandoned all caution and sensibility and followed her heart, that wonderful thing that knew what she needed even when her brain told her otherwise. New hope sprang forward and a zealousness that she hadn't felt in over a year consumed her wholly.

She followed Rex's footsteps, intent on bringing him back to her, but just as she got halfway to the door, the phone began to ring.

"Damn!" she cursed. She didn't want Rex to drive off, but she didn't want to let the phone ring, either. It was so impolite. Though she fought the urge to answer the phone all the way to her front door, the ringing irritated her to the point that it gave her a headache. If she just picked it up, quickly told whomever it was to call back, she'd feel better. But she had to hurry.

"Hello?" However, once she spoke with the person on the other end, a new sense of urgency replaced that generated by her own needs. It was more important now than before that she get to Rex. Through the window, she saw, thankfully, he was still outside.

"Rex!" she cried clamantly, running towards his car in her coat with her purse in hand.

"What??" he inquired with utmost concern. He'd been trying to put the top up on his car because the morning chill was getting to be a bit too much when Bree came running from the house. There was a mixture of fear, impatience and apprehension in her features. What he imagined would be Bree running to him with forgiveness and an invitation to come back home turned out to be something altogether unexpected.

"It's Andrew, Rex! He's in the hospital here in Fairview. Please, we've got to go to him!"

Not another thought was given to their own problems as Bree and Rex got into his car and sped away. Knowing their son was a mere few miles away injected the worried parents with indescribable joy. To have both her children back under her roof was a dream come true for Bree. She wondered if Andrew could ever forgive her for failing him so miserably. Shortly, she would find out.


	7. More Than Words

**Chapter Rating:** PG**  
Author's Notes:** Chapter's title comes from the Extreme song _More Than Words_.

My eternal thanks goes out to all my supporters who are relentless in offering their words of encouragement and leave review after review following each and every chapter. I thought you'd be tired of this little fic after a few chapters, so hearing that you want more does my heart good. :)

Regarding the fic, things have taken a turn with this chapter. Bree now has Danielle and Andrew at home, her relationship with Rex has gone from flinging bitter insults to reluctant acceptance and though she's still battling certain demons, she's growing as a person and evolving. The angst and drama is beginning to let up, but before you get too cozy, something bad is going to happen to Bree. I'm just warning you (though not in this chapter).

* * *

_More Than Words_

The corridors of Fairview Hospital were aloof, endless chasms decorated with doors leading to everywhere but where Bree desperately wanted to be. An alacritous "click, click" sound ricocheted off the white walls of the hollow hallway as the spinous heels of her shoes pounded ruthlessly against the tiled floors in synchronization with the disquieted heart which pounded against the wall of her chest. Her mind was focused solely on the son who'd been absent from her life for four months. All she wanted to do was see him, hold him and know he was alive and in one piece. Every possible scenario involving that first glimpse of Andrew after their long separation ran through her mind like a kaleidoscope. In vain, she tried to imagine what she should say to him, but nothing seemed to properly convey the emotions that were ripping through her body this very moment. So buried into her own chaotic thoughts was Bree that she didn't notice Rex reach out and take her hand in his.

Together, the apprehensive parents maneuvered their way to the second floor waiting room where they were met by Justin, who'd called Andrew's mother only twenty minutes before.

"Mr. Van De Kamp, Mrs. Van De Kamp," he greeted in a solemn manner, politely shaking Rex's hand.

"Where is he, Justin?" Bree asked worriedly. Any second now, she feared she would erupt into tears if she didn't get to see her son.

"Listen, I wasn't suppose to call you..."

"What do you mean?" Rex inquired in curiosity.

"Andrew didn't want me to call you, but I didn't know what else to do." Neither Bree nor Rex understood what Justin meant and were getting frustrated by his cryptic replies. On top of the anxiety she was experiencing, she wasn't in the mood to solve puzzles.

"_Where is he, Justin_??" she asked, emphasizing each word through a clenched jaw. If he didn't tell her, she would implode.

"He's, um, in the recovery wing, room twenty-four. But you can't go in there! He made me swear that I wouldn't call you!"

As the last words slipped through his mouth, Bree swiftly spun around and started heading toward the recovery wing, leaving Rex behind with Justin. Once he realized she'd taken off, he had to jog to catch up with her.

"Bree, wait a minute!" he said when he finally reached his ex-wife. "You can't just go barging in there. Maybe we should tell a nurse to let Andrew know we want to see him."

"No," she snapped.

"Bree... Bree!" Rex grabbed her by the arms, effectively stopping her.

"Rex, let go..."

"Listen to me, Bree..."

"Rex, please let me go!" she pleaded and sobbed, trying to yank herself from his grasp. It broke Rex's heart. Tears that she tried so hard to contain started pouring from her eyes and he pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her shaking body. To his immense relief, she clung willingly to him. He was mute as he let her unload the burdens she'd been carrying around since she'd forced Andrew out of the house and onto his own.

"I haven't seen him in four months! I packed his things and I dropped him off in the middle of nowhere. What kind of mother does that to her own child?? I was too busy trying to straighten out my own life that I ignored my son's needs! And rather than have patience and try to help him, I dump him like a litter of unwanted kittens!"

Rex's arms tightened and he stroked Bree's hair, much like he would do to soothe a fussy child. "Shhhh, it's going to be ok. We'll get to see Andrew, but honey, you can't burst into his room unannounced. What if he calls security? If they have to escort you out of the hospital, you won't be allowed back."

Against his sweatshirt, she cried a tearful lamentation that for months had eaten at her soul and exacerbated the blatant void that grew with each day that passed without hearing from her son, "I _have_ to see him, Rex. If only for five minutes, just to tell him that I love him and that I'm so sorry for letting him down."

"We'll go talk to the nurse and have her let him know that we're here to see him. But Bree, it's up to Andrew then. Ok?"

There was nothing left to say so she soundlessly nodded her head. Taking her hand once again, Rex led her to the nurse's station which was positioned in front of the entrance to the recovery wing.

"Excuse me...?" he said loudly, hoping to get the attention of a nurse. Promptly, one came to the desk.

"Dr. Van De Kamp, it's nice to see you!" A pretty, young nurse named Marla recognized him. "I'm sure you're here to see your son, is that correct? We've been taking good care of Andrew since he's been here."

"How long has he been here??" questioned Bree concernedly.

"You must be his mother. It's a pleasure to meet you. To answer your question, he's been here about five days."

"Five days?!" she exclaimed, horrified that Andrew had once again slipped so easily by her undetected. What kind of horrible mother was she?? "Why didn't someone call me or his father?? What's wrong with him?!"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Van De Kamp, but because Andrew's eighteen and a legal adult, I can't divulge any more information."

Observing Bree on the brink of tearing someone's head off, he cut in hastily and assured the nurse, "Don't worry, Marla, we understand. Would you tell him that his parents would like to see him?"

"Yes, Dr. Van De Kamp," she smiled before trotting off to Andrew's room.

After she left her desk, Bree turned to Rex, an expression of outrage on her face. "Five days, Rex! Five days! Why are we just hearing about it now?! God, he's been alone all this time!"

"He's not been alone, he's had Justin with him."

"You work here, for God's sakes! How could you not know your own son was here?!"

Rex allowed Bree to criticize him to her heart's content for he knew that she was a mother in distress, sick to her stomach over Andrew. He wished he could steal her pain from her, but he was powerless to do so. The only comfort he could offer was to stand by her side and convince her that everything would be fine.

Not more than five minutes later, Marla returned to the desk. This time she wasn't smiling.

"I talked to Andrew and, uh, well..." To the Van De Kamps, Marla seemed to be quite uncomfortable and a bit embarrassed to be having this conversation with them. "Well, he said that Dr. Van De Kamp could come back but under no circumstances did he want to see his mother." The hesitant nurse carefully avoided looking at Bree, who was beyond devastated at being turned away by her son. Her face fell and her heart was burdened with grief that metastasized the longer she was kept away from Andrew. At least Rex would be able to see their son and that provided her with some comfort.

"Go on, Rex. Go see Andrew," she urged him stoically.

"I'm terribly sorry, Bree. I promise I'll talk to him," he told her apologetically. Rex wanted to reunite with their son as much as Bree did, but upon seeing her so distraught, and knowing she was doing her best at trying to hide it, he didn't want to leave her side.

"I know. Just tell Andrew for me that I love him and I never stopped loving him and that I want him to come home after he's out of the hospital. Would you do that for me?"

"Of course," he nodded before his reluctant departure for Andrew's room.

There was a row of chairs that sat opposite the entrance of the recovery wing and though Bree tried sitting in one of them, she was too fretful to stay put for more than two minutes at a time. Berating herself for turning her back on the only son she had, she wished she could undo that day as well as all the other hardships they'd endured the last couple of years. Perhaps she could've done more to help him; maybe if she had paid more attention to him, maybe if she hadn't given up on him they all might not be in this situation. Andrew could be as stubborn as his mother, which meant it might be a long time before he decided to grace her with his presence. The most important thing right now was knowing that he would be ok. She didn't even know why he was in the hospital, but it didn't seem to be life-threatening, which she was thankful for.

While Rex was visiting Andrew, time slowed to a lackadaisical crawl for Bree. The universe was at an apparent standstill as Bree repeatedly wrung her hands, nervous of the uncertainty that lay ahead. Since she had enough time to kill, she traveled back in time mentally to ascertain exactly when everything started going wrong with Andrew. He hadn't always been as angry a person as he had become. As a child he'd been mischievous, like any other boy, but he was always ready for a cuddle and a kiss from the mother who he'd always been so intent on pleasing. All he ever asked was for his mother to be proud of him and give him praise for his accomplishments no matter how small and insignificant the triumph. Had she been the type of mother to show her children how proud she was of them? Probably not. Like Rex had pointed out on more than one occasion, she had transformed into a repressed, unemotional robot. That was the perception she wished for others to have about her and it eventually carried over to her family. If her children rebelled, it was to get some kind of reaction out of their seemingly cold, uncaring, hard-to-please mother.

An hour later, Rex emerged with a sheen of mist coating his eyes. Hopeful, Bree bolted out of her seat and met him halfway between the entrance and where she had been sitting.

"Well, how is he? Why is he in the hospital?"

"He's doing fine. He's got a badly broken leg, what orthopedic surgeons would call a compound multi-fragmentary fracture. James Phillips, his doctor and one of the best orthopedic surgeons around, performed surgery the other day to insert pins into the bones to hold the broken pieces together. His recovery's going very well, though. He's... God," Rex sighed and wiped his eyes with his hands. "I haven't seen him in so long. I've missed him so much. I can't describe to you how it felt to see him."

A strangled cry threatened to escape through the gate of quivering lips that barely suppressed the emotion that flowed from her heart like a waterfall. "I can't believe he's here in Fairview. Oh my heavens! I don't think I care so much that he hates me just as long he's healthy and on the mend.

"How did he break his leg?"

"He didn't want to talk about it. I'm sure we'll find out in time." Expectantly, Bree peered at Rex and he knew what she was going to ask next. To spare her, he answered her question before it had the chance to be verbalized and shot down.

"I'm sorry, Bree. I talked to Andrew, I told him what you asked me, but he doesn't want to see you."

"I see." Easing herself into a chair, she exhaled deeply. Her ex-husband sat besides her and took her hand.

"You know how he is, honey. When he wants something, he'll be asking for you. Give him some time, he'll come around. I'm sure he missed you just as much as you missed him. How could he not?"

Bree couldn't speak. Her voice was shadowed by the overwhelming thoughts and feelings that tore through her body like a tornado. The best she could manage was a nod lest she fall apart.

"It looks like he's doing well. Justin's here if he needs anything and he has our cell numbers. I suppose we should be going."

Shaking her head, she replied, "You go on, I'm staying here."

"Honey," Rex said with gentleness, sensitive to Bree's feelings that were exposed like an open sore. "Andrew's pretty set on not seeing you today, you wouldn't be doing yourself any good by sitting out here. You can wait just as comfortably at home. I'll be coming to work in a couple of hours, if he changes his mind, I'll call you."

"I can't go home. Not now. Not when he's just a few feet from me. I spent the better part of four months not knowing where he was, thinking he could be hundreds of miles from me, wondering if he was dead or alive. Now that I know where he is, I want to stay close, even if I can't be with him. I'm not leaving until he does."

"I wish you'd change your mind. You could be waiting for a long time. Listen, just give me a few more tries, maybe I can talk him into seeing you. Meanwhile, you go home and wait."

"No!" she objected, resolute in her stance. "I appreciate you talking to Andrew on my behalf, but I'm afraid that you could talk until you're blue in the face and bribe him with a car and he still wouldn't budge. I'm going to stay here and I don't care how long it takes." Bree's insistence only made Rex feel more helpless. If only his son and his ex-wife would each relent a small bit, he wouldn't have to act the clueless arbitrator. Though he was wary of leaving Bree to her own devices, he had no other choice but to do so as he still had to shower and dress for work.

"I'll drop by the house and tell Danielle what's going on. I told her I'd drive her to work today. My shift begins at noon, so I'll drop by and see you and Andrew. If you need anything, don't think twice about calling me."

"Thank you, Rex."

Something didn't feel right to Rex as he stood there gazing awkwardly at Bree. After saying his good-byes, he felt odd about simply walking away. There was a strange nagging sensation that was prompting him to complete the scene. His eyes locked with Bree's and as he stared into those dark pools encircled with green, he saw something there he hadn't seen once in the months since he returned to his family: trust. She was sharing with him her deepest fears and pain and wordlessly begging for his support. The Bree he'd wanted to divorce a year and a half ago was gradually shedding her thick skin to reveal a human side that needed affection and reassurance. Instantly, he understood what was lacking. Forgetting they were no longer a married couple, he pulled Bree tenderly against him and placed a simple, chaste kiss on her cheek. It was a declaration, not of love, but of a partnership of mutual support and amiability. Should she suffer anguish of any kind, Rex was making it known to her that she wouldn't have to do so alone, that he would be her partner, to share in the afflictions foisted upon her by their common path in life. Appearing to interpret the complexity behind such an uncomplicated gesture, Bree snaked her arms around her ex-husband and embraced him, letting neither air nor light nor sound come between their bodies.

"Tell Danielle to come see her brother. He'd want to see her."

"I will." Tearing himself from his ex-wife, he trailed out of the waiting area and out of Bree's sight.

Lonesome and suddenly tired, Bree returned to her seat wondering when her son would soften his rigid stance and allow his mother back into his life. If only he'd give her another chance, she would make things right. She worried that maybe it was too late. For most of his eighteen years on Earth he'd lived in a perfectionist's hell that had been thrust upon his father and his sister by his mother. Rex and she had talked about forgiveness earlier that morning and she hoped that her statement to him could be proven wrong, that there was indeed enough forgiveness to erase the animosity and hurt caused by ignorant, damaging decisions. While Andrew made up his mind about whether to see his mother or not, she would wait for him with the patience that had eluded her at their last meeting.

True to his word, during his shift, Rex came to see Andrew and stopped to update Bree on his condition. They didn't bother to discuss the idea of Bree visiting her son because she knew Andrew hadn't altered his decision. If and when he did, Bree was certain she'd feel it in her heart and at that point in the day, her heart felt like it was weighed down with heavy stones. Thirteen hours elapsed and Bree continued her vigil in the waiting room. Prior to going home, Rex came to see her once again. This time he didn't check on Andrew, rather he took a seat next to his ex-wife.

"I wish you would reconsider..."

"I'm not moving."

"I see that."

When she turned to look at him, she had to admit that he was a handsome man, always had been. He wore his white doctor's coat over a blue dress shirt and matching silk tie with black slacks. A stethoscope was carelessly slung around his neck. Smiling, it became clear to her just how proud of him she was for all that he'd accomplished in life, not only for himself, but for his family. The only change she would make–and it was only small change–would be to straighten the lapels on his coat. Other than that, he was a sight of perfection, a perfection so effortless it seemed unfair.

Gingerly taking hold of his crooked lapels, she rearranged them until they were a mirror image of one another, beaming with a pride Rex didn't comprehend. "Rex Van De Kamp, you're a very handsome sight. You look exactly how a doctor should look." After pressing on the cotton fabric a little here and a little there, she was finished.

Chuckling, he responded as he inspected Bree's handiwork, "Oh, really? And how's that?"

"Professional, distinguished, intelligent, successful, _competent_..."

"Can I quote you on that for my business card?" he asked, visibly amused and touched at the same time.

"Absolutely. If I may ask, what do you presently have printed on your business cards?" she inquired in playfulness.

"_Dr. Rex Van De Kamp, MD. Are you absolutely sure you made the right choice?_"

"Rex!" He delighted in her reaction, completely thrilled to be making her smile and laugh amid the tense situation with Andrew. He liked it when she laughed because she appeared so natural and alive. It was something he hadn't gotten to see a lot of. With each passing year, the number of instances in which Bree laughed, _truly laughed_, had waned, which was a pity because Rex thought the look and the sound suited her.

When the moment couldn't seem to get any more perfect, it all collapsed into ruin when Rex's cell phone began ringing. Flashing Bree a contrite look, he dug into the pockets of his coat to retrieve his cell.

"Hello?"

From where she sat, she could hear a distinctive, high-pitched voice being emitted from the phone. The words being spewed a mile a minute in Rex's ear were indistinguishable, but she could tell the other party didn't sound too pleased. The conversation lasted a mere two minutes before Rex hung up.

"That was Amber," he informed her insipidly. "We're suppose to go out to dinner and see a movie when I get off work."

"Ahh," Bree voiced her disappointment as she turned away from him. Her one good moment in a dismal day trampled recklessly by Rex's two-bit tart.

"I suppose I should get going," he stood up in discernible abruptness. "If there's any change..."

"...I'll call you."

"Bye, Bree."

"Bye."

Gloomily, she watched Rex as he left the waiting area and disappeared down the hall.

All her life, people had been walking away from her, leaving her to wonder what was so undesirable about her that no one wanted to be in her company for very long. Grateful that Rex's presence had helped pass twenty minutes of a day that had trudged endlessly on, she knew she was in for more of the same as the night wore on. The kind nurse that had taken over for Marla at the nurse's station had apparently been told of Bree's plight as she brought the troubled mother the largest cup of coffee the hospital cafeteria supplied. About two in the morning, Bree drifted, against her will, into a short, fitful sleep. When she awoke, the first thing she did was go over to the nurse's station and ask about Andrew. Satisfied that he was continuing to make great progress with his broken leg, she went to the restroom to freshen up which basically consisted of splashing some water on her face and removing the day-old make-up that had collected in the creases around her eyes and mouth. Unhappy with her appearance, there was nothing she could do about it currently. It had been a lifetime ago since she'd been seen in public without make-up enhancing her already pretty features. The flawless part and her trademark flip had given way to dull, flat hair that appeared to simply sit on her head, which didn't please Bree, either.

A day later, Bree was still waiting to hear from her son, her defenses starting to crumble and her confidence ebbing. She put herself through a rigorous interrogation concerning her parenting skills, her future with her children and her ability to love and nurture them. Night fell on her hope while the sun rose on her self-doubt, that cancerous demon that led her to alcohol, who'd shoved it down her throat each time she required the use of her inner strength. Distrust of her own capabilities slithered its way into her head, causing old patterns to resurface. Not only did she have to deal with her son's present condition, but she had to battle with her desire to drown the voices in her head with alcohol. Vicious thoughts crammed her mind, overloading it with their venom. Why couldn't they stop? Why wouldn't they leave her alone so she could worry about Andrew?

Pacing the room, she tried to deflect her thoughts by concentrating on other things. Sometimes that meant reciting recipes from memory, or listing all the appliances she wanted in alphabetical order, or staring blankly out the window at nothing in particular while she wrung her hands and twisted her hair around her finger in thoughtful reflection. She even took a stab at trying to get interested in reading the articles from the three-year old magazines that were flung haphazardly on the room's tables. The whole time she was at the hospital, Bree never left the confines of that room, not even to eat. The growl in her stomach became more pronounced as the hours lurked along and at times her tongue cried for relief, but still she was adamant that she wouldn't leave until her son was able to. When four o'clock in the afternoon rolled around, Rex surprised her by stopping by, as dashingly dressed as the previous day. He checked on Andrew, told Bree what had passed between them and watched the familiar dispirited expression cross Bree's face as he yet again had to tell her that Andrew didn't wish to see her. In the end, Bree was still unmoving in her decision to keep her place in the waiting room, though no one could accuse Rex of not trying to get Bree to go home or at least to eat something. However, she did break down and request that he bring her something to drink.

A few minutes after midnight, Bree was struggling to stay awake when out of nowhere an alarm went off from inside the recovery wing. It didn't even dawn on her that it could have something to do with Andrew, but every hair she possessed stood at attention when she heard one of the nurses run off yelling, "We need a doctor in room twenty-four, stat!"

Ice ran through her veins like sharp razors and her heart convulsed mercilessly in its place.

"Oh my God, that's Andrew's room!" breathed Bree in a panic. Calling Rex hadn't even entered her mind, all she could think about was her child. Throwing all rules and regulations violently and carelessly aside, Bree ran into the recovery wing, weaving through the horde of doctors and nurses that were littering the hall. One of the nurses at the nurses station recognized Bree and attempted to run after, shouting her name, but Bree wouldn't stop. She had to get to her son. They could call the police and have her escorted from the property, she didn't care. There was one thing on her mind and heeding the rules wasn't it. As she ran, the noises around her faded into the background and all she could hear was the rush of blood in her ears, its flow propelled by the rapid speed at which her heart beat. The world around her seemed to be moving in slow motion. Glancing at the room numbers posted just above the doors, she ran until she saw '24'. Unconcerned that she hadn't obtained anyone's permission, she boldly entered to search for Andrew. Though she couldn't see him through the entourage of doctors and nurses that surrounded the bed, she heard his deafening, high-pitched screams.

"It hurts!!" he cried.

Instinctively, Bree pushed herself between two medical attendants flanking the right side of the bed and gazed lovingly down at her son, enraptured by the feeling of seeing him but horrified of what was happening to him. At first, he didn't see her as his eyes were closed tightly in the agonizing pain he was experiencing, but as soon as Bree laid a tender hand atop his head, he recognized the familiarity of the feel and his eyes flew open. They showed pure terror.

"It's going to be ok, Andrew," she smiled down at him with a serenity that had previously evaded her. She didn't know where the sudden calmness came from, but she was glad for Andrew's sake that she was able to be so composed. "Don't worry, they'll take care of you," she cooed in a soothing lilt as she had done when he was a young child. Stroking his hair, damp from his unsuccessful efforts at quelling his own pain, her gaze never left him. He stared up at her and big tears fell down his flushed cheeks in recognition.

"Mama!" his voice was stifled by the excruciating pain in his leg that felt like thousands of little needles stabbing his flesh from within over and over again, resulting in a burning sensation shooting upward to his thigh. "It hurts, it hurts so bad..." he ended in a shaky whisper. Talking too loudly made it hurt even worse.

"I know, baby, I know. Don't think about the pain, Andrew. Look at me, ok? Don't look at the doctors."

Andrew managed a clipped nod, but gritted his teeth, growled, moaned and shrieked, all in an attempt to lessen his suffering, but it was to no avail. Bree continued with stroking the top of his head.

"You're doing great, darling. They'll stop the pain. You're managing just fine. You know what? I'm so proud of you, Andrew. So very proud."

At this point, Andrew grabbed Bree's hand and squeezed with all his strength and whimpered.

"Squeeze all you want, you won't hurt me," she encouraged him over his screams.

"Mama, when will it end??! Can't you make it stop?!" She had to restrain herself from scooping him up into her arms in a mother's effort to shield him from all the bad things she'd promised to protect him from the day he was born. Instantly, the fire that eluded her earlier returned and she silently declared that she was his mother and she would protect him at all costs. Nothing would separate her from Andrew again. He was her son and she was his mother. It would require more than a grudge and anger to break the bond she had forged with him upon conception. Her strength had to be enough for the both of them.

"Soon, sweetheart. They're working as fast as they can to help you. It won't be long until you'll be out of pain. Remember when you were eight years old and you broke your arm? Remember when the doctor told you they would have to set it and that it would hurt, so you begged your dad to do surgery to remove it because you'd rather have your arm taken off than go through the pain?"

"Mama!" he wailed, holding onto her hand for dear life. Wishing to do more, she could only stand by and watch her son be victimized by an invisible assailant that came from within his own body.

"Hold on, Andrew. You're being so brave." Gently, she wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"I can't stand it anymore!"

Sitting on the edge of the hospital bed in an attempt to be closer to him, Andrew welcomed the invasion of his space and let loose Bree's hand to envelope his mother with his arms. He clung to her tightly in desperate hope of finding solace. Trying to console him, she rubbed his back softly with one hand while holding his head against her with another. His ear lay on her chest and she could feel the tremors that racked his body in jagged waves. It was the same spot where his tiny head laid the first time she ever held him. When she spoke, Andrew could hear the muffled sound of her voice through her chest wall. He also heard the beat of her heart which was an anchor in the midst of the chaos that whirled about him. It's steady, timely rhythm proved to lull him into a trance-like state in which the pain began to subside. Drowsiness soon carried him away from the world around him and the pain that had inexorably besieged him dripped from his body. In the arms of his mother, he peacefully feel into a deep sleep.

Loathe to release her son, she eased Andrew and herself down onto the bed and lay there as his erratic breaths lessened and became more regular. Tucking his head under her chin, she felt his warm breath shower her clammy skin. Closing her eyes, she savored the moment which she might never again experience and reveled in the intimacy that hadn't been afforded to her since Andrew entered adolescence. She knew he was eighteen years of age, but that night he'd been a child in a young man's body crying out for the one person who knew him and loved him unconditionally. He was too proud to have a nurse bring her to him, but somehow she knew he needed his mom. It was purely instinctual, something set in place the second she became a mother. Becoming a parent was the last thing Bree recalled as she, too, joined Andrew in sleep. The troubled world continued to spin and life went on as Bree and Andrew lay unto themselves, relishing a reunion of which neither was aware.

Later that morning just after sunrise, Bree awoke to Andrew's snores. A precious smile inching across her face, she endeavored to smooth the bits of his hair that were wildly reaching up towards heaven. Seeing they were intractable, like the boy upon whose head they grew, she cheerfully gave in and instead placed an adoring kiss on his nose. He was still asleep and oblivious to everything that went on around him. Watching him sleep so placidly without worries or fears to mar the contented visage that appeared as though it had been painted on his face, Bree thought her heart would burst from the joy that had inundated her heart.

There was no telling what he would think or say when he awakened. It was the only dread Bree harbored where her son was concerned. There was no way to predict Andrew's reaction upon waking up and finding his mother there, the mother he went nearly three days without seeing. Anticipating a rocky path ahead for them and realizing they may never repair their relationship, Bree took advantage of the present situation to talk to Andrew, praying that some of what she was about to say would stick with him, penetrating the walls of his unconsciousness.

"Andrew..." She wasn't sure how to begin. Anything she said would sound silly. Besides, he was asleep. He couldn't actually hear her, right? He probably wouldn't be able to remember anything. However, things she'd been yearning to say to her son for months began flowing out of her mouth.

"Andrew, the first thing I want to say to you, the most important thing, is I love you. I'm so sorry for leaving you on your own. I thought I couldn't love you as you should be loved, but I was so wrong. I was dead wrong. Yes, I was hurt and I had little confidence in my ability to be a good parent to you. I felt like I had failed you in some way and that's why you were acting out, but you didn't need less of me, you needed more. In essence, you did win because leaving you behind made me understand that you were angry at me not because you didn't want me around, but because I didn't give you the things you needed and deserved. I should've let you become who you were and not who I wanted you to be. I've made a lot of mistakes, Andrew, and I'm going to make more, unfortunately. My biggest mistake was never telling you how proud you make me. I'm so very so proud to be your mother. And if you give me a second chance, I'll work even harder to make you proud to be my son.

"It's such a pity that you won't remember any of this because I think it's the most important thing I've ever said to you." Searching his face for any sign of consciousness, she was left disappointed. As impractical as it was, she hoped that somewhere in the solemnity that held his mind hostage there was a conscious spark that had absorbed at least some of what she said.

"Bree?"

In the doorway stood Rex with his hands in the pockets of his white overcoat looking grave. She knew instantly why he was there.

"Bree, I'm so sorry but you have to go now. No one wants you to leave, but Andrew still..."

"I know," she answered in wretched dejection. Planting one last kiss on his brow, she diligently removed herself from the embrace she shared with her son. "Will he be ok, Rex?"

"For the time being, he's out of pain. The doctor ordered a morphine drip last night when the pain started so that should put him to sleep in the meantime. He has a bacterial infection called osteomyelitis. When he broke his leg, the bone came through his skin and even though the doctor stitched it up and administered antibiotics, some bacteria got into the wound and settled in the bone. His leg was swollen so badly last night the doctor was worried he'd have to amputate it if the circulation was cut off due to damaged blood vessels. Thankfully, it didn't come to that."

"That's good. Um, did you hear any of what I was telling Andrew?"

Nodding his head, Rex begged, "Please don't be mad. I came to get you and when I heard you talking to him, I didn't want to interrupt. I wish he'd had been awake to hear it. I think it's something he needed to hear."

"I don't think it matters much anyway. I doubt he heard or will remember anything I've said," she acknowledged sadly.

"Come on, let's go to the cafeteria. You haven't eaten in three days and today you're going to eat something."

"But..." she started to protest.

"I don't want to hear it. Doctor's orders," he grinned. Together, they walked out of the room and to the cafeteria on the first floor leaving their son behind to sleep.

Little did Bree know, though, that Andrew was still as devious as he used to be, however now his motives were relatively harmless. The fact was, Andrew had awoken two hours earlier than his mom. As he observed her walking out of his room through half-closed eyes while pretending to be engrossed in the realm of dreams, he ardently hoped that his own words had indeed pierced the dense, slumberous haze that blanketed her mind and body while she had rested next to her son.

Once they'd eaten and were on their way back from the cafeteria to the recovery wing, Rex's cell phone rang. A couple of "yeahs" later, he hung up and a smile was splashed unevenly on his face at Bree.

"Andrew's awake."

"Oh, that's great. Is he ok? Has the pain stopped?" she asked apprehensively.

"He's asking for you."

There in the hallway she laughed like she hadn't laughed in an eternity. Those heavy stones that drowned her heart were disappearing one by one. Everything else could go wrong in her life right now and she wouldn't care because she was on her way to see her son. Arriving back at room twenty-four, she hesitantly took a couple of steps through the doorway and her eyes fell upon the form of her son laying in repose on his bed, neither smiling nor frowning.

No one said anything for a long while. Andrew stared at her, as though he couldn't believe it was really her. He recalled her touch, her scent, her words from earlier that morning when he had been in such awful pain, but he was waiting for the real Bree Van De Kamp to show herself, to exemplify her disappointment in him, to embark on a renewed attempt to mold him into someone she could accept, to turn him away in disgust, to voice her displeasure. Most of all, he waited for her to say something to betray everything she had told him when she thought he was asleep and make a liar out of herself. With bated breath he waited.

"Andrew..." she said in a voice strained with emotion and eyes stained with tears. It was almost too much to be in the same room with him after their four-month separation, but Andrew took it mean something entirely different.

"I should've known," he scoffed in absolute despondency.

"Should've known what??" Bree asked bewildered.

"I see the way you look at me. You're disappointed in me. I should've known you'd never change. I can't believe Justin called you. I wish I'd never come back to Fairview."

Undeterred, Bree walked over to her son and sat down beside him. Sandwiching his hand between hers, she kissed it. "These aren't tears of disappointment, Andrew. I've missed you so much, I just–I can't... I never thought I'd see you again and right now I'm too happy for words! When you're released from the hospital, I want you to come home."

"Really??" After all he'd done to his mother, it was incredible that she'd just let him move back in with her. Something wasn't sitting well with him. It was all too good to be true. Wary as he was of his mother, he didn't really have a choice. He'd been living off friends for a few days at a time and then off the streets when his welcome had worn out at his friends' places, hopping from one location to another, never knowing where his next meal was going to come from or how he would survive another day. Times had been rough and Andrew had done a little bit of everything just to make a some cash, things he was too ashamed to tell his parents. The only reason Justin had called his parents in the first place was because he didn't have insurance to pay for the hospital stay. Though he was skeptic when it came to returning home with the mother who had apparently turned over a new leaf (or at least she'd seemed to for this hospital visit), the alternative was much, much worse. He saw his mother as a spider, luring her unsuspecting victim farther and farther into her corner until it found itself entangled in a sticky web from which there was no escape. Andrew swore he wouldn't be that unsuspecting victim. This time around, he wouldn't give his mother the opportunity to express her disdain of him or confess her inability to give him unequivocal love. He wasn't going to let her hurt him again and he didn't trust her not to do it.

The three of them decided then that Andrew would go home to Wisteria Lane when he had fully recovered from the infection that ravaged his leg. It wasn't until four days had passed that he was allowed to go home and he had to admit that when he stood outside is house, it felt good to soak up the sight of it. Bree and Rex were on either side of him, offering their help to get him up the stairs of the front porch, but he had his crutches to assist him and cautiously climbed each step himself. When he entered the house, he was glad to see that it was exactly the same as he left it. Making his way into the living room, he saw Danielle and Justin holding a cake that read, "Welcome home, Andrew!"

"Surprise!" his sister shouted excitedly, running up to him and throwing her arms around his shoulders, mindful that he had just one good leg to stand on. Andrew, however, wasn't in the mood to celebrate. His spirits had been somewhat low since he'd agreed to meet with his mother a few days ago. Ever since, he'd been waiting for that other shoe to drop so he didn't want to get too comfortable and let his guard down.

"Thanks, Danielle. Listen, I'm kind of tired, so I'm going to go lay down for a while." Seeing Danielle's smile falter he forced a smile onto his own face and quickly added, "We'll eat some cake later, ok? So, don't give into the temptation to eat it all."

"Ok," she grinned.

Bree darted over to her son to help him up the stairs, but he told her brusquely, "I'm fine."

"Darling, these steps are narrow and there are a lot of them. Let me help you." She tried to grab his arm, but he yanked it away.

"Mom!" he snapped impatiently, causing her to jump backward. The shock registered on her face. Almost immediately, he softened his tone. "Look, I can do it by myself. If I need you, I'll call."

He ascended the stairs one step at a time, struggling to angle his crutches in such a way that they would fit securely on the stairs and evenly distribute his weight. If he was afraid of falling, he didn't say anything. All he wanted to do was retreat to the solitude of his room and get away from his mother.

Bree rationalized his behavior, saying that he was tired or in pain. She waited for him to call her, ready to do anything he asked of her, but he spent the whole day shut in his room never once summoning his mother for anything. Rex visited with his daughter for a while as Justin went upstairs to sit with Andrew, but eventually they said their good-byes and left Bree, Danielle and Andrew alone under the same roof for the very first time in four months. Bree was thrilled that she had both her children together again in her house, however she was also scared because her son was unpredictable. Though he cried out for her comfort the night he was in pain, he had withdrawn all the bridges he'd started to build the next day by his cold, uncaring manner. What could she possibly do to show him that he was one of the most important people in the world to her? She could tell him she loved him, she could make his favorite foods to eat, she could buy him all he wanted, but with Andrew, it wasn't going to be that easy. He was like his mother in that trust didn't come simply or hurriedly for him. Gaining his trust was like building a house: one brick at a time. It was up to her to lay the foundation and persist with the construction come rain or shine, hot or cold. This time, she wasn't going to give up or give in. At dinner time, she went to his room and tried to talk to him.

"Andrew?" she called from the other side of his door. When he didn't answer, she let herself in thinking he was by chance taking a nap. Far from it, he was laying on the bed staring at the ceiling.

"Andrew, dinner's ready."

"I'm not hungry," he replied flatly.

"But you need to eat, sweetheart. The directions on your medication say that you have to take the pills with food."

"I know what they say. I took care of myself for four months, I don't need you to take care of me now."

Flabbergasted, Bree didn't know quite what to say. Expecting Andrew to come home and euphorically rejoin the family with no baggage from his life before was clearly not going to happen. His sulky tone of voice was an indication. The reminder that she'd failed her son was a stab to her already fragile heart, but she persevered in repairing the mother-son relationship that was in shambles. Unlike last time, she promised herself to give Andrew time to adjust and, as she allowed Danielle following her own hospital stay, to purge himself of his anger and his frustrations.

"I know you don't need anyone to take care of you, but I _want_ to. I admit that I wronged you and I've paid dearly for that every single day since. I don't want to do things for you because I have some kind of need to make it up to you. I want to do them because I love you."

"Too late." Unremorseful spines shot through his sour words and were hurdled straight at his mother. "I'm just staying here until I can get my cast off and get a job, then I'm out. Out of this house and out of your life. You know, the only reason I came home with you was because Dad wouldn't let me go home with him."

She took a deep breath to steady the emotions that had just suffered their first assault. "It's ok to be upset, Andrew, for everything that I've done to you, but do you think you can ever forgive me?" Bree pleaded.

"Forgive you for _everything_??" he scoffed. "Such as turning me away and being embarrassed by the fact that I'm gay? For forcing my dad to go into hiding for a year because you picked a psycho to date to get even with him because he cheated on you for being the person you are? For hitting me while you were drunk? For sabotaging my chance to go live with Grandpa and Grandma and having a chance at a normal life away from you? That's a tall order and the last time I checked, Santa Claus isn't real. So, would you get out of my room?"

Bree stood there soundlessly rooted to the ground. A sphere of anguish closed in on her, robbing her of the breath she needed to maintain her equilibrium. The longer she stayed in Andrew's presence, the more she felt sanity sliding away from her. She thought for sure things would be at least a little different once Andrew came home, once she professed her guilt and begged his forgiveness. Like always, though, he couldn't wait to get as far away from her as possible.

"I'm–I'm sorry you feel that way," she stammered as she exited his room quietly and shut the door. Halfway down the hall, a bolt of courage hit her and she turned around, marched back into his room and stood her ground defiantly. "I am your mother and no one is going to love you like I do. You can treat me as lousy as you want and I will still love you. You have tried my patience, stepped all over my heart and caused me pain, but I still love you and I hope that there will come a day when you can love me just the same. I confess that I have said things and done things, things that have probably made you feel that I don't love you, and I'm so sorry. But I'm trying. You're not even making an effort! So, if you want to lay there and feel sorry for yourself, fine. I don't feel sorry for you, Andrew, because if you're smart enough to survive four months on your own, you're smart enough to find away to meet me in the middle so we can work through our problems. I'm not saying we have to forgive and forget everything that has happened between us this very instant, but if you're willing to try, I will wait on you!" Not waiting for a response, she spun around and slammed his bedroom door so hard the walls of the house shook.

Out of breath, she leaned against the wall and sunk to her feet going over everything she just said. It was like a dream in which she hadn't felt control over her mouth, but somehow, she just knew what to say. Dealing with her embittered son was going to take a generous amount of longanimity and though Bree had encountered her first test, which she failed miserably, she resolved that next time she wouldn't stand there in idle complacence without putting up some kind of fight. There was a scant month until his cast would be taken off and in that period, she would have to work hard to win back Andrew's affections and prove to him beyond a shadow of a doubt that the thought of him brought her nothing but joy. If he only knew how much she loved him and thought about him everyday, he wouldn't have to question her motivation for wanting to bring him dinner and give him his medicine and make sure he was comfortable and pain-free. Words weren't going to be sufficient, she was going to have to show him that she was sorry. She prayed that it would be enough to make him change his decision about leaving.

Several days elapsed without Andrew and Bree exchanging much more than a few, punctuated words. Andrew wasn't again as rude as he had been to his mother that first evening at home, but he wasn't overly courteous. Bree gave him space, allowing him to readjust to home life and being around her and his sister. He really only opened up and smiled was when Rex visited. Since Andrew was largely homebound, Bree let her ex-husband see the children at her house. Jealousy surfaced within Bree each time she saw her son laughing and chatting on and on with his father. She realized it was abhorrent to feel that way and she admonished herself for having such bad thoughts, but she had been trying so hard to reach Andrew and all Rex had to do was show up and he had Andrew in the palm of his hand. Tirelessly and without complaint, Bree cooked meals that included Andrew's favorite foods and carried each of them on a tray to his room three times a day. Also, she promptly administered his medication the times when he was due another dose, she laid his clothes out for him, she changed his bedding and brought him magazines and video games when he was bored. It was hard to restrain herself from throwing her arms around him or attempting to strike up a conversation, but if she had tried, he would've turned a deaf ear to what she had to say making the effort ineffectual. Andrew was responsible for making the first move and Bree was waiting for him.

One night as dinner was nearly ready, Bree was preparing a tray to take to Andrew when, to her amazement, he'd come downstairs for dinner. Her mouth wide open and spoon midair, she gaped as he silently hobbled on crutches over to the table and sat down. Quickening her pace, she sat dinner on the table and she and her daughter delightfully joined him. As she started to fix him a plate of food, he gently took the plate from her and helped himself, allowing his mother to take a seat. He then cut the roast into several pieces for everyone and passed the salt to his mother even though she'd asked Danielle to do so. This simple yet significant event was momentous for the sake of progress. Yes, it was a baby step, but it let Bree know there was a flicker of hope in the blinding mist that divided them. Overjoyed at Andrew for taking that first step on the path to forgiveness, which would become well traveled for sure, she sent him a sincere smile that radiated love and gratitude. He briefly acknowledged her with a curt nod of his head before he resumed eating his food.

After the meal was over, Danielle aided her mother in clearing the dishes and leftover food from the table while Andrew proceeded into the living room. Sinking down onto the couch, he flipped indifferently through the channels on television in an attempt to find something to watch. Nothing looked particularly engaging so he put it on one of his favorite channels in hopes that something he liked would come on soon. Though he tried to take an interest in the program that was currently airing, he was distracted by sounds of laughter bouncing fervidly from the kitchen. He heard Danielle talking in faint tones, her words muffled by the distance between her location and his, followed by his mother's rich, warm laugh which reverberated throughout the house. Never before could he recall hearing such a true, genuine sound come from the Bree Van De Kamp he thought he knew so well. Suspicious and curious, he vacated his seat and headed in the direction of his mother and sister. From a stationary position just outside the room, he cautiously peeked in at the happy scene and was hit full force with a feeling of homey cheerfulness, a feeling that was largely missing from his memories of home that flooded his mind when he thought of his mother. He saw his sister basking in the attention their mother was lavishing on her. Danielle stood at the sink washing dishes and their mother was behind her running her fingers through her hair in sublime adoration. Without so much as a warning, Danielle unexpectedly took a handful of excess soap suds from the sink and flung them over her shoulder at Bree, causing both of them to collapse in giggles. To Andrew's surprise, his mother didn't flinch or scold his sister for causing such a mess, but rather scooped up her own suds and blew them at her daughter. Danielle put her arms up to screen her face permitting Bree to take advantage of her youngest child's unprotected ticklish spots and launched a merciless attack on them.

"Mom!" Danielle managed to scream as she simultaneously cackled, soap suds dotting her hair in a sporadic pattern.

When Bree was satisfied, she relented and pulled her daughter in for a hug and a kiss to her cheek. Upon raising her face, she saw Andrew at the door watching them intently.

"Do you want to help us wash dishes?" she asked, hoping her son would join them.

Andrew shook his head and started for the stairs, but Bree caught up to him before he began his ascent. Physically turning him to face her, she wrapped him in a warm hug. Thoroughly stupefied by the gesture, he was even more stunned when he felt himself returning the hug and enjoying it. He also received a kiss to the cheek and as she gazed at her son with an overwhelming amount of love in her eyes, she stroked the side of his head. Not wanting to seem to needy or too forgiving for one day, he abruptly broke the contact with his mother and fled upstairs. Once in his room, he retrieved a picture of his mother he kept in the bottom of his bureau drawer and stared at it for hours. Loathe to admit it, he was glad to be home.

With Andrew in the hospital and his subsequent homecoming, Bree hadn't been able to mentally revisit the talk Rex and she had the morning before discovering their son was at Fairview Hospital. During the next couple of days, she pondered her words to her ex-husband, hearing herself say to him they would never work as a couple. She'd almost given in to him, though. He'd almost convinced her to go back to him, to give their relationship another chance and she'd come close to doing it. It was luck that the moment before she ran out the door Justin had called with news of Andrew. He may have prevented her from making a big mistake. It wasn't that she hated Rex, but they only brought each other misery and sorrow. Rex was basically a good, decent man capable of being the finest, most caring and romantic gentleman, nevertheless when they were in each other's company, cruelty and savagery pushed them into saying abhorrent things that to pardon would be obscene. They were the antithesis of the "perfect couple" and it saddened Bree because for almost twenty years they were a good couple. There had been rough times and there had been wonderful times. Most of all, they'd loved one another.

A part of Bree wished she'd yielded to the impulses that implored her to run after her ex-husband that Saturday. After he'd kissed her, she realized what she'd been missing from her life. She held no uncertainty that Rex didn't have some type of feelings for her, but they'd just been through a divorce so it could only be expected for both parties to attempt to recapture a whisper of the feelings that had withered into extinction. There had been a period in which Bree and Rex lived in the spring and summer of their love, but now winter had turned it into a frozen reminder of a relationship that once existed. A heavy snow, apathetic to the ties that continued to link the pair, densely covered all the paths that connected them, thus making it impossible for the couple to find their way back to one another. They drifted aimlessly, lost in the snow, coming so close yet missing that for which they subconsciously and endlessly searched. The very thing that poisoned their minds against a relationship was the very thing that haunted their dreams, taunting them with what they couldn't have: each other.

Instinct was something that Bree wasn't so good at. Her motherly instincts were for the most part on par, however when it came to her love life, she was illiterate. Her prudish, altruistic nature had never allowed her to put aside anything for the sake of personal happiness. Everything she'd done was out of sense of duty. Even sex had always seemed perfunctory, to be performed out of some marital obligation and to bring forth children. Always perfectly in control of herself, desire was a thing to be curbed and disregarded. Not to say she never had her fair share of lusty thoughts or deeds, but she could never seem to let loose and give up control for personal pleasure.

Bringing Rex back into her life would be a mistake, she decided. There was a little voice in the far reaches of her mind that second guessed her every decision involving Rex, but she did the best she could to silence them. Her life had to go on without him. Facing the memory of him every day was getting to be too painful to bear. Each time she saw the boxes sitting in her living room floor, she was instantly reminded of a story or anecdote that was inevitably about him. Would it always be this hard? Would she never cease to automatically recall these little stories when she saw something that caused her to think of Rex? How people managed to survive divorce and retain their sanity was beyond Bree!

Instead of looking at those dratted boxes any longer, she promptly loaded them into her car and drove them to Rex's condo. Not knowing if he was home as she hadn't phoned him first, she planned to leave them on his door step if she had to. Anything just to get them out of her house! Carrying a box in her arms, she trekked to the front door and pressed the doorbell. Not more than the seconds had passed when Rex answered.

"Bree!" he exclaimed in surprise. "I wasn't expecting you!"

"I know I should've called, how rude of me not to."

"No, it's ok. What's this?" he asked, indicating the box she held in her arms.

She was about to answer when she heard another woman's voice calling from inside the condominium. It was Amber. "Rex, you'd better tell me what you want for dinner!"

Upon hearing the shrill voice of a woman in Rex's home, Bree froze. She didn't know why, but the thought of another woman in his home making him dinner, an act so intimate which had been reserved just for her for two decades, made the need to cry arise from within her. She wanted to push passed him and find the other woman that had taken her place and scream at her! Scream until her throat was raw and her voice crackled and maybe break a few dishes to, for good measure. But then Bree remembered why she was there in the first place. It was so she could avoid scenes like this in the future.

Rex sighed and rolled his eyes. "Hang on, I'll be there in a minute!" Closing the door behind him, he stood on his front porch. "I'm sorry, she's trying to learn how to cook, but she's not doing such a good job." He chuckled ruefully.

Bree cleared her throat and swallowed a lump that had formed there. "Well, um, maybe you should go back in and, um, tell her you'll be wanting roasted chicken with a splash of lemon and, um, garlic mashed potatoes."

Crossing his arms, he looked at her in astonishment and laughed softly as he voiced his query, "How did you know I was in the mood for chicken and mashed potatoes?"

Not able to breath under his fierce scrutiny, she turned her head. "Oh... It's Wednesday. You always want chicken on Wednesday and you always preferred mashed potatoes with chicken."

"You know me so well..."

"Yes, well, here." She shoved the box in his hands to deflect any more such questions of a personal nature. "I have four more out in the car, if you wouldn't mind helping me..."

"No, not at all," he replied absentmindedly.

When all five boxes sat on the porch, Bree knew her work was done. Any trace of Rex was now gone from her house and from her life. The sigh of relief never came, though. The fact was, she didn't feel any different than she did before. Maybe it took some time.

"Here's everything of yours. Trophies, pictures, papers, certificates, journals, awards... Even pens. Absolutely everything." She wistfully glimpsed at the boxes.

"Everything, Bree?" he asked, skepticism dancing around his words.

"Yes, why?"

"You still wear my ring on your finger."

Looking down at the platinum band with the pristine diamond sparkling madly at its center, she inadvertently caught a glare of something on Rex's hand that reflected the sunlight and countered, "So, do you. When were you going to take it off?"

"When you takes yours off."

Bree left Rex's condo waiting to feel a difference in her life. She half expected mountain tops to crumble or neon signs to flash "It's officially over. You can now move on with your life," but she was disappointed. In almost every aspect of her being, she was happy, all save for one area. Her children were the source of much of her joy; her relationship with her daughter was better than it had been in a long time and Andrew and she were working to repair that which had been broken and were making slow, but steady progress. Her friends were a constant source of support and for that she was eternally grateful. The only thing she lacked was her husband and as she went about her daily chores and duties, she recalled when she used to do them with him in mind. Despite what she'd told herself, she missed Rex Van De Kamp.

That night, just before she crawled into bed, she stood in the darkness of her room fingering her wedding ring thinking about the first time he'd slipped it on her shaking finger. Gently removing it, she sat it atop her nightstand in front of a framed picture of Rex she used to cry over when she thought him dead. She let her fingers run their tips deftly over his face as though it was the finest silk as she murmured, "I love you."

On the other side of town, in his big, lonely bed, cold without love or passion to fill the emptiness, Rex rolled his wedding band with his thumb and forefinger, gazing thoughtfully at it. Bree was a conundrum. One minute it seemed as if she wanted to salvage their relationship and the next she acted as though she couldn't get far enough from him. His poor heart. There were some things that surgery and medication couldn't fix. He adamantly refused to expel the memories of her from his mind and as long as he breathed, that's where she would stay. Never would he let her go. As sleep encroached his mind, he replaced his ring on his finger as he heard Bree's voice recite the most important words uttered on their wedding day: "Til death do us part."


End file.
